Scrawny
by Wilderwest
Summary: **ON HIATUS** Modern AU. Hiccup and Astrid get together just as Hiccup is diagnosed with an eating disorder. Will she stay with him as he battles a condition he denies he has? (Please don't read this if it may trigger you. Eating disorders are very serious and if you are struggling, I advise you to take care of yourself and ask for help from someone qualified.)
1. Routine

**Hi! This is my first fan fiction. I've had this idea for a while, and I finally decided to write it. The first few chapters are going to be pretty bumpy, but I have a good plan for later on. If you don't like it, don't read it (please no hate comments).**

 **WARNING: The main plot of this story will be about eating disorders and family stress. If there will be anything else, I'll let you know.**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.**

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 **Hiccup's POV**

I woke up to the smell of frying sausage and a particularly obnoxious beeping alarm clock on my bedside table. I deactivated it with one sleepy hand and rubbed my face with the other. I opened my eyes and stared at the neon green digits: _6:30_. School began at 8:00 am and the bus picked me up at 7:30, which gave me exactly and hour to have a shower, take Toothless and Skullcrusher for a short walk, and make up an excuse for why I wasn't going to eat. On the mornings of the days my mom came home, my father sometimes got up about twenty minutes before me and made an enormous "real man" breakfast consisting of sausage, bacon, waffles, and eggs. Sure, his cooking was awesome, but... I didn't eat _that_ much for one meal.

I sat up in bed, yawning, then was immediately knocked down by a large, furry black body.

" _Toothless!_ " I giggled as the large, 2 year-old Bouvier des Flanders (a dog breed that took me a while to figure out how to pronounce) pinned my bony body to the bed and covered my face in happy, _GOOD MORNING!_ doggy kisses.

After a few minutes of wrestling and laughter, I managed to wiggle out from underneath my best friend, wiping the slobber off my face with a pajama sleeve. I walked across the hall to the bathroom, nudging Toothless out with my foot when he tried to follow me inside. I started the shower and undressed. The first thing I noticed when I took off my dark green shirt was my ribs. I stared at them in the mirror over the sink. They stuck out vividly against my pale skin.

 _It doesn't matter,_ I assured myself, _I'm just scrawny. Always have been always will be._ I knew I was pretty light, but I was also short for my age, only five foot four inches. I stopped staring, slipped off my brown plaid flannel pants and underwear and hopped into the shower. I looked down at my skinny thighs as I shampooed my auburn hair. _Just scrawny._

I turned off the running water and reached around the shower curtain to grab my towel. I dried off, then wrapped it around my waist and headed back to my room. Just like every morning, Toothless had been sitting by the bathroom door, waiting for me to come out. No one understood why I had named the enormous furry mass Toothless. It was because when my parents and I had gone to get him two years ago, Toothless rarely opened his mouth, and he never bit people or anything (of course, things had changed since then, and the dog's mouth was ready at all times to give someone a good slobbering). And, I don't know, I was a weird thirteen year-old, so I named him something that didn't make a whole lot of sense.

I pulled on a pair of jeans, a green sweater, and my Converse high tops and headed downstairs into the thick scent of breakfast food.

"Hey Dad," I greeted as I sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"Mornin', son," my dad replied as he turned around from the stove, a frying pan full of scrambled eggs in one hand. "Want some eggs?"

"Um, no thanks, I'm going to take Toothless for a little walk." I glanced at the antique clock on the wall that my mother picked out at a resale store when I was a baby: _6:58_.

"Alright, you can have some sausage when you get back."

"Sure." _Nope._

I grabbed Toothless's red leash off the hook and was about to head out the front door when I heard my dad's booming, Scottish-accented voice call from the kitchen.

"Hiccup! Could you take Skullcrusher with you?"

"Yeah!" I yelled back. I whistled, and our family's loyal Australian Shephard came into the foyer from the living room and sat patiently as I clipped on his green and purple striped leash. We had a cat, too, but Cloudjumper usually went with my mom on her work trips. She was a business consultant, which meant that she traveled around the country and advised businesses on how to do certain stuff. I knew my mom always wanted to see different cities, she could never stay put, but it was still really hard because she was gone for about two weeks every month. My father really missed her, too, and alternated between overly happy and overly distant when she was gone. He worked at a small law firm in downtown Berk, and he was there between the hours of 8:30 am and 9:00 pm on every day except Sunday during her trips. I was alone _a lot._

I stepped out into the crisp September air, a leash in each hand. I felt my stomach rumble, but I ignored it. Berk, New York was in the northern part of the state, close to Canada, and was pretty cold all year round. The winters were brutally fierce, and the summer was short and the temperature rarely went over 75 degrees Fahrenheit. I think it's the only place in the state like that. It was a metropolitan city, too, with skyscrapers and a population of about 800,000. We lived about 5 miles away from the main city in a large neighborhood with about three schools in our area. I went to the only high school in Berk that had the honor of being named Berk High School, after the actual city itself. Surprisingly, it wasn't that crowded a school, there were only about a hundred and seventy-five kids in my grade.

I strolled across down the front walk and turned to the right. I usually took Toothless and/or Skullcrusher just around the block, it only took about ten minutes. The leaves were gorgeous in the fall. My eyes wandered around the neighborhood in the early morning, noting that the houses containing children were already bright and lively. When my gaze fell on a particular blue house across the street, and my mind sighed to itself with thoughts of the girl who lived there.

I had had a crush on her since she moved here when we were in second grade.

It was about two months after she moved in. She had been passing my house on her bike when she hit a dip in the sidewalk and toppled over. I (having witnessed the accident from my front window) had grabbed an armful of Band-Aids and ran outside as fast as my little legs could carry me. When I had gotten to her, I was baffled to see that she wasn't even crying. She was simply sitting on the grass and calmly inspecting the bloody scrape on her right knee. I had offered her a bandage awkwardly. She had looked up at me, her blue eyes sparkling in confusion, and I had said, "Um, uh, I saw you fall."

"Thanks," she had reached out and taken it nonchalantly.

"Are you okay?" I had asked, worried and wondering if I needed to go get my parents or her's.

She'd just shrugged. "Yeah, I've got scrapes all over my knees anyway. It's kinda fun when ya get cool scars outta stuff, y'know?"

"Uh, haha, yeah... pain... LOVE IT," I had stuttered like an idiot.

She had squinted at me, stood up, and positioned to get got back on her bike.

"What's your name?" She had asked, half interrogative and half curious.

"Um, Hiccup."

She'd stuck out her hand, which baffled me, since I'd only ever seen adults do that. "I'm Astrid Hofferson. My family just moved into that blue house over there."

I'd reached out to her hand nervously, and when she shook it with the same strong grip as a grown-up.

I can't remember if I'd said something else, or if she had, but I remember that our little meet ended with her saying a short 'bye' and riding away on her bike, off to get more 'cool scars', I guessed.

I saw her around the neighborhood and at school, but rarely spoke to her directly. Thanks to her volleyball skills and fearsome confidence, Astrid was one of the most well-known girls in the softmore class at Berk High School, and I was the lonely, bony, short nerd who couldn't throw a football if my life depended on it.

I finished the lap around the block, and went back inside. I looked up at the clock on top the China cabinet. I had fifteen minutes till the bus arrived. I unclipped the leashes and hung them back up. As I walked back into the kitchen, Toothless stayed at my side and kissed my left hand hanging at my side. I gave him a dog biscuit out of the bag on the counter.

"I packed up some sausage for you to eat on the bus," said my dad, holding up a Ziplock bag. "What took you so long on the walk?"

"Thanks," I said, accepting the sausage, "Toothless saw a squirrel, and when he wants to go, I have to follow."

My dad chuckled. "Don't forget, we've gotta pick up your mother tonight. Her plane lands at seven, and it's a thirty minute drive to the airport, so right when I get home from work, we'll leave, okay?"

I nodded. "Got it."

"Do you want me to take you to school this morning?" offered my dad as I dug my heavy backpack out of the closet in the kitchen. It was only the second week of school, and I already had a ton of homework.

"No, no, it's fine. Thanks, though," I told him. He had been more fatherly than usual the past couple days, just like he always was whenever my mom was about to come home.

I ran upstairs to grab my phone from my nightstand, a little dizzy once I got to the top, but I shook off the feeling, and sat on my bed to check my texts. Toothless, who had of course followed me, jumped up beside me on the bed and nuzzled me with his great, big snout until I reached one hand over and scratched behind his ears.

I only had one text (from Fishlegs, of course). It wasn't even a text, it was link to some website telling about weird, exotic fish that was discovered to live on the bottom of the ocean. I knew that I didn't even have to read it, he would tell me all about it at school.

"Hiccup, the bus is here!"

I hurried downstairs, grabbed my backpack, and sprinted for the front door.

"Wait! Don't forget your sausage!" I snatched the food from him, stuffing it in my school bag with one hand as I opened the front door with the other. Toothless tried to come with me, but I gave him a firm "no" and closed the door behind me.

Thank God that none of the bullies that tormented me rode my bus. Unfortunately, Astrid didn't either, one of her parents always drove her to work. I chose an empty seat amongst the overly-noising adolescents and stared out the window for a couple minutes, then played a game on my phone.

We pulled up in front of Berk High School, and every jostled around as they tried to be the first off the bus. _What does it matter? We're all going to the same hellhole_ , I thought.

I got off last and made my way to the door, taking the sausage out of my pocket and eating one link before I walked through the door and started toward my locker, then I paused. _I'm not really hungry for any more, this fills me up, it's enough_ , I thought. I stared at the remaining three links for a second, then let them fall into the bin with a _plop_.

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 **A/N:** **Yeah, I know, it's a bad first chapter. Valka is alive in this story and will appear! Review if you liked it (and I'm okay with gentle** **criticism, but please don't be mean.)**


	2. Home

**A/N: Thank you all so much! I really didn't expect that many views on the first chapter. I'm going to try not to rush the story, so Hiccup's diagnosis is going to be around the seventh chapter. Until then: Hiccstrid!**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks**

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 **Hiccup's POV**

As I searched through my locker for my overly heavy history textbook, a hulking shadow suddenly loomed over me.

"Did you read the article?" said Fishlegs's quiet voice from beyond me.

"Yeah, it was good," I lied, stuffing my textbook in my bag, shutting my locker, and turning around.

"Isn't it so cool how-" and he was off. It's not that I didn't like the articles, I actually found them really interesting, I just didn't have to read them because all the information came out of my six-foot-tall friend anyways.

World History was as boring as usual. Just another dull lesson about another dull person who did something a gazillion years ago. My father always wanted me to pay the most attention to that class, he was always trying to get me interested in politic-ish stuff. And sports.

The bell rang, announcing the end of class, and waking everyone up from an hour long nap. I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the door. I must've stood up too quickly, because spots danced in front of my eyes and I felt a bit faint. I blinked away the sensation.

I don't understand high school hallways. Doesn't it make sense for the people going one way to walk on the right side, and then the people going the other way walk on the left side? But, no no no, it has to be like two armies colliding on a battlefield.

My next class was 11th grade math, Pre-Calculus. I was in 10th grade, but my math test scores had by high enough last year that I was able to move up. The teacher was nice enough, but for some reason he believed that his life was like an Indiana Jones movie, so sometimes in the middle of class he'd start talking about how he got some statue or artifact or whatever. We all just blocked it out.

About thirty minutes into class, my head jerked up when Mr. Johann's voice called my name.

"-Hiccup, Ashton, Corey, and Beatrix please come up to my desk."

I uneasily rose from my seat and walked to the front of the room with the five other kids whose names he called. We stood there awkwardly for a second before he started talking. The six of us had the highest percentages in the class, so I was pretty sure that we weren't in trouble.

"As you know, you guys have the best grades in the class, and I was wondering if you could help the school with something," he began, "There are several freshman and sophomores who are having trouble in math and need some help. Would any of you be interested in tutoring? Their parents would pay you."

We all nodded.

"Great! I'll give the secretary your names, the kids will probably come talk to you today or tomorrow."

I walked back to my seat and continued to work on my assignment. I wondered who I was going to get. They might be in my grade, I thought.

My stomach rumbled.

I ignored it.

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The next two hours were a blur of science and Spanish. Then it was lunch. I knew I should've gone to eat, but I felt sort of queasy. My stomach would probably have felt better if I ate, but... I just... I was queasy, I guess.

So, I went to the library and studied, like I'd done most days so far that year, and like I had done a lot the previous one. Fishlegs never came with me, he always went down to the cafeteria. I took out my unfinished math, put in my earbuds, and listened to music as I completed my homework.

I almost had a heart attack ten minutes later when my left earbud was tugged out of my ear abruptly. I looked up, prepared to start explaining about how ripping out someone's headphones was one of the worst sins you could commit, when-

 _OhGodohGodohGod what do I do._

An annoyed Astrid Hofferson stood above me, frowning. Her friends Ruffnut and Heather stood a few tables away, Heather tapping away on her fancy iPhone 6, Ruffnut rolling her eyes and her brunette friend's cellphone focus.

"Sorry," said Astrid, although she didn't really look it, "I was trying to talk to you. I'm one of the sophomores that apparently needs a tutor."

I realized that my mouth was hanging open and I quickly shut it. She pursed her lips, then her gaze softened.

"You _are_ Hiccup, right?"

I nodded.

"My mom says that I need a math tutor. I'm doing fine, I have an A-, but last year I got _one B_ , and she's... so, I need a tutor, she says." Her annoyed face came back.

 _So this is who I'm getting? Astrid Hofferson? Say something you idiot!_

I gulped. "So, uh, um, when do you want to, uh, work together? And do you want to do it here at school or... something?" _Smooth, real smooth._

"Well, after school, somewhere else, would be best. 'Cause, well, when school gets out, I need to _get out,_ y'know? Would my house be okay?"

We were having a conversation. An actual conversation. And yes, her house would be perfect.

"Yeah, that'd work."

"Okay, what time would be good?"

"Uh, I'm free, like, anytime but tonight."

"Is tomorrow okay? I know it's soon, but volleyball starts in a week and I gotta practice-"

"Oh, yeah, yeah that'd be perfect."

She squinted at me. Why do I have to stutter so much?

"You know where my house is, don't you? We live near each other, I think."

I was surprised that she remembered we were neighbors. I seldom went outside in my front yard. Our backyard was really big and had a lot of trees, so I played with Toothless out there. Except when I took him for walks in the early morning.

I nodded. "Yeah, it's blue with white trim." She nodded. "Is, uh, tomorrow at five okay?"

"Yeah, that's great."

"'Kay."

Astrid started to walk away from me, then turned back.

"Aren't you going to lunch?"

"I bring my own food and eat it in here." The lie fell off my tongue so easily.

"Well, you need to pack more and put some meat and muscle on those bones," she teased. Was that a flirt tease or a bullying tease?

I laughed shakily. "Okay."

She walked away with her friends, and I went back to my math. My stomach growled, and I felt sort of dizzy.

My dad had played football at Berk High, and expected me to, too. I tried to tell him that I didn't find sports interesting (meaning that I hated them with all my soul), but he'd still made me try out for the team freshman year.

Yeah, I did not make it.

As I finished my assignment, I thought about my mom and Astrid. I had not a single grain of knowledge about women and how to speak to them. It would be so awkward to ask my dad. Anyways, he would probably tell me to just be a man and ask her out, then clap me on the shoulder and knock the wind out of me. I planned to get my mom alone tonight and ask her.

Afternoon classes flew by, and I'd managed to avoid the school bully, Snotlout (who was actually my distant cousin) and his posse by the time I got on the bus at three o'clock.

I arrived at home at 3:20 to a very ecstatic Toothless. I had three hours till we had to go to the airport, so I took him out to the fenced-in backyard along with Skullcrusher and let them play while I finished my homework and read in the grass.

My stomach felt empty and it sort of hurt, but every time my mom got home from a trip we'd all go out to dinner, so I'd eat then. The faintness would pass after I ate. Why didn't I just get a snack from the kitchen? I don't know.

At five, I took the dogs inside, fed them, then went upstairs to my room. Toothless sat on my bed and stared at me as I changed into a red button-down shirt. My dad always wanted me to dress up a little nicer for my mom's returns. The shirt hung loosely around my bony chest. _Scrawny._

For the next hour, I sat on my bed and played games and checked Tumblr on my oldish Toshiba computer. Toothless kept trying to climb into my lap because he knew that I was looking at the screen, and that if he got between my eyes and the screen I would have to look at him.

I heard the door open downstairs and I shut my laptop.

"Ready to go, son?!"

"Coming, dad!"

The ride to the airport was silent, I stared out the window most of the way, thinking up wild fantasies that ended with Astrid kissing me.

Which reminded me...

"So, dad, at school today my math teacher asked me to tutor this kid..."

"Oh, Hiccup, that's great! Who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Um, it's Astrid, y'know, who lives across the street."

My father let out a big, booming laugh. "Ha HA, that's m'boy!"

My face went beet red. "No! Dad no it's not... it's not-"

"Oh I know, I know," he said, still chuckling. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw him smirking. Great. I didn't know if I was happy that he was proud of his fishbone son, or embarrassed that he thought that I had finally found a girlfriend.

We pulled into a spot in the parking lot and my father asked,"Got the sign?"

"Got it." We had a sign to hold up that said 'WAITING FOR BEAUTIFUL VALKA AND HER BEAUTIFUL CAT'. My dad had made it, and I had added the cat part.

The airport was crowded, so it took us a little while to find a good place to stand. When I was littler, I would sit on my dad's shoulders and hold the sign over my head as high as I could. We could probably still do that, considering my beefy father's size and my small one.

I saw him glance at his watch: _7:12_. My mom's flight landed at 7:00. I stood on my tiptoes and looked over the sea of heads. I waited. We waited. Then I saw a woman coming around the corner. She was tall, around six feet, and had reddish-brown hair streaked with gray that was currently clumped up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She was rolling a brown suitcase in one hand and holding a cat carrier in the other. Her emerald green eyes swept over the crowd. _My_ emerald green eyes.

"Mom!"

"Val!"

My beautiful mother spotted her family and their sign and hurried through the mass of people. When she got to us, she put down the carrier and suitcase and wrapped her fit, gentle arms around us. My father returned the favor and put his massive, tree trunk arms around my mother and I. I was squashed between my parents, but I didn't mind. It was my mother who had flown back into Berk, but it was me who had come home.

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 **A/N: I'm trying not to rush but this story needs to speed up! The next chapter will be better, I promise. I hope you enjoyed it, please review!**


	3. Reunited Family

**A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! You have no idea how much it means to me!**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks**

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 **Hiccup's POV**

"So, Val, where d'you wanna go? Antonio's?" Antonio's was a fancy Italian place that we usually went to for special occasions.

"The only place I want to go is the Burger King drive-through and a hot shower," my mom said, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me close. We had an old pickup truck where the front seat was just one big bench. My father drove, my mom sat on the passenger's side, and I was hunkered down in between them. The car felt so empty when my mom was gone; there was nothing warm and comforting to lean against.

"Alright, then, Burger King here we come!" My dad was so cheerful. I know he had missed my mom, but... I was always there. He could have talked to me, spent time with me. I know he cared about me, he still would help me with my homework occasionally, and ask me to throw a football with him (which I always said I was too busy for). But... I kind of wanted him to talk about... _stuff_ with me. Or, at least try. I mean, I had to Google the sex talk! Which only made me more confused. My mom had saw the search history on the computer, sat me down, and told me to just ask my dad. I didn't, of course. In the four years since that happened, I had learned basic anatomy thanks to health class at school, but I still had the skills of an eight year old when it came to the opposite gender.

We pulled into the drive-through line at the fast-food place. My father turned toward us,"What do you want?"

"Veggie burger and a medium iced tea," said my mom and dad in unison, laughing. It was what my mom got every time.

"I'll have the four piece chicken nuggets and, uh, a small... vanilla milkshake," I said.

"Are you sure, love? You're getting taller, you need food for your growing body," my mom said,"How 'bout you get the six piece and some fries?"

"Okay, I'll get the six piece, but no fries," I gave in. I hated fries, they were so salty, and they made my fingers feel all greasy. My mom frowned a little and stroked my hair. We finally got to the speaker, and my dad rolled down the window to order our food and his large cheeseburger.

"I'm getting taller?" I asked. I guess I hadn't measured myself in a while.

My mom nodded. "You look like you've grown a foot since I've been gone!" _Huh?_

My dad finished ordering and rolled up the window. "I know, I think he's going through a growth spurt," he smiled at me,"Gobber's coming over tomorrow to grill some steaks for dinner, you should talk to him about trying out for the team this year. I know you didn't make it last year, but the bigger you get, the better you're gonna be." My dad's friend from high school, Gobber, was the coach of the school's junior varsity football team and the co-coach of the varsity team.

"Wait, tomorrow?" Uh oh.

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"Um, I have to go over to Astrid's tomorrow at five."

"Oh, okay, Gobber's coming right when I get back from work, at 6:30-ish, do you think you'll be done by then?'

"Yeah, probably."

My mom was looking back and forth from me to my dad, her face scrunched in confusion. She stopped both of us when she threw her hands up in the air. "Whoa whoa whoa, hold up! I'm missing something here. What's happening tomorrow?"

"Our boy has a date," my dad teased, smirking. _Dammit!_ Ugh, did he really have to do that?

"NO! _It is not-_!" I shut my mouth quickly when my dad, still smirking, rolled down the driver's side window to take our food. My mom looked down at me, still confused, and I gave her a _p_ _lease don't listen to dad_ face. Sometimes I felt like he only did shitty stuff like that because he enjoyed seeing me get all riled up.

"Have a nice night," he said to the emo-looking Burger King employee. He rolled up the window and handed my mom the bag containing my food and hers. He placed her iced tea, my milkshake, and his jumbo-sized root beer in the truck's cupholders. He looked at me with an apologetic face, "I'm sorry, son, tell her the truth." _How come he isn't this nice when my mom isn't around?_

I took a deep breath, gave him one last dirty look, then explained,"My math teacher asked me to tutor somebody in my grade who's mother thinks that she needs help," I was careful to remember that Astrid didn't really need help, her mother thought she did,"We have an _appointment_ tomorrow at five. Her name's Astrid, she lives across the street from us."

"Oh, the Hofferson's daughter, okay. That's so great that your teacher trusts _you_ to do that!" She smiled at me and looked all proud and motherly, then her expression turned stern and she looked up to glare at my dad. "Stoick, that's horrible! Why would you tease him like that?"

"Oh, hush, I was just joking! Just a little manly humor, right, son?" He gave me a small punch on the shoulder.

"Ach! Yeah, joking, haha," I replied weekly.

"See? He gets it," I sighed inwardly at the comment,"Well, my darling family, where shall we go? Straight home, or Zippleback Lake?" Zippleback Lake was located a couple miles away, sort of on the outskirts of town. It was one large lake with two sort of smaller, longer ones coming out of one side, forming a peninsula. From the air it kind of looked like a two-headed monster. Around one of the 'heads', there was beach, and around the other, there was a large, cliffy area that had a scenic road along the top. We go there a lot, and park along the top of the cliff in one of the overlook spaces and admire the view.

"Zippleback Lake," said my mom and I together. We all laughed and my dad turned onto Zippleback Road. My mom pulled my chicken nuggets out of the Burger King bag and handed them to me. I opened the box and stared at them. I picked up one carefully and took a small nibble. I swallowed, and even though bit of food that fell to my stomach was tiny, it already made me feel better. Why didn't it I do this more often?

"Hiccup, is something wrong?" I looked to my right to see my mom's concerned frowning at me.

"Nothing, just tasting it. One time I just popped the nugget in my mouth and was _really_ weird," not my best lie, and even though my mom smiled and said,"Oh, okay," I saw my father and her share an anxious glance. I quickly stuffed the chicken in my mouth and chewed while taking a long drink of my vanilla shake. I didn't want them worry, so, as we drove along the cliffs to our favorite parking spot, I forced myself to stuff my face with the fast food. Food just... it made me feel so bloated sometimes. I've accidentally binged before, and I felt so sick that I thought I was going to puke. I didn't want to feel that nausea ever again. However, the food in my belly did feel really good. _Ugh, why am I so conflicted?_ I was so confused.

"Aaaaaaaaand-," my dad pulled into the small overlook parking area, "Here we are!"

As we sat there, my dad munching on his massive cheeseburger, my mom's left arm around me, I realized how much I never wanted to disappoint them. So, I decided that, yes, I would try I out for the football team.

Such a big mistake.

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"Hey, mom?" I said cautiously, knocking on my parents bedroom door at nine forty-five that same night. My dad was downstairs watching ESPN, cheering loudly every time the team he rooted for scored or whatever. _If I make the team, he'll be cheering for me like tha-_

"Come in, love, I'm just unpacking," came my mother's British-y sounding voice from inside. How come whenever my parents spoke, it sounded like they were reciting Shakespeare? Yet here I was, stuck with a high-pitched, nasally squawk that sounded like puberty was going through puberty.

I opened the door slowly. On top of the brown plaid comforter on the bed was my mom's suitcase, which she was carefully taking clothes out of and slipping into dresser drawers. Her ginormous ginger tabby, Cloudjumper, was sitting majestically on a pillow. Her hair fell down her back, still wet from a shower.

"Hiccup, it's almost ten o'clock, you should get to bed so that you won't be too tired for school," she said, not looking up from her suitcase. I didn't tell her that when she was gone, my dad didn't care what my bedtime was. I didn't want her to know that, though. I knew that my dad just didn't really know how to deal with me without her, so why should I bring that up when she was now home?

"Oh, yeah, I was just about to turn out my light, I just... uh, needed to ask you something." _God help me._ My mom glanced up from her unpacking and saw my nervous expression.

"What's wrong?" _Fuck my life._

"So, you know how I'm tutoring that girl tomorrow?"

"Yes, Astrid."

"Okay, I don't want you to get the wrong idea, just... Okay. So. Hypothetically, how do you, um... like. Well, how... How do girls like to be talked to?" Not a great start. My mom's thin eyebrows knit together in confusion and I quickly added, "I _mean_ , like, what kind of... whatever... do they find like, offensive and stuff? I'd uh, ask dad, but he's... sports on TV." Her face relaxed and became understanding. She walked over to me, put and arm around my bony shoulders and walked me back to the bed, sitting me down upon it. I looked up at her anxiously, and she gave me a little smile and rubbed her hand up and down my non-existent bicep comfortingly.

"Honestly? Just be yourself. No one likes a big, pompous jerk. You're the kind of person that everyone need in their life, and if someone doesn't accept you for who you are, forget about them," It didn't seem like very direct advice, but it calmed me and made me feel a little less nervous. I leaned into my mother, resting my head on her shoulder. She wrapped her other arm around me and squeezed. Yeah, this was helpful. I stood up and made to leave the room.

"Thanks, mom," I said gratefully. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards, almost somewhat sadly.

"Also, never, ever, ever say one bad thing about feminism. I've met Astrid a few times, she could take you _down_." I laughed, 'cause it was true.

"Thanks," I smiled and turned the doorknob.

"Your welcome. Get some sleep."

"'Night, mom."

"Goodnight, love."

I turned on a lamp in my room, stripped, and pulled on my pajama shirt and flannel pants. I walked across the hall to the bathroom, just like I'd done this morning, Toothless following me. He sat on the tiled floor while I brushed my teeth. Then I went to the bathroom. My piss was the color of the root beer my dad had gotten from Burger King. I ignored it, pulled up my pants, washed my hands, went to my room, laid down in bed, Toothless snuggled up next to me, I turned of the light, and was asleep within minutes.

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 **Valka's POV**

I sat in bed, propped up against a pillow, and began to reread _Jane Eyre_ for the millionth time. Stoick lay next to me, engrossed in the latest issue of _Sports Illustrated._ I sighed. Once an athlete, always and athlete. Usually, when I got back from a trip, we would wait until Hiccup fell asleep, then make out like horny teenagers. I guess neither of us felt up for it that night. After all, it was football season so Stoick was occupied with his studying of the teams, and my mind was somewhere else as well.

Hiccup had always been small, ever since he was a baby, but I'd thought that he would have grown out of it by the time he was fifteen. When I hugged him, he felt so frail and bony. Did he eat when I wasn't here? Did he eat when I _was_ here? I felt so... conflicted. I loved my job, but I hated being away from my family. I needed to tell them the news. Soon. _Tomorrow,_ I told myself.

A couple minutes later, we turned off the lights and I settled into the warm body of my husband. I buried my face into his bushy red beard and exhaled.

"I'm worried, Stoick," I whispered.

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 **A/N: Ach! This one was really bad, I know. I'm going to begin Hiccstrid in the next chapter right away. Also, the reason that Hiccup's pee is dark is because, when you become malnourished, you start having kidney problems.**


	4. Tutoring

**A/N: Okay, I need to move this along! Here comes the beginning of Hiccstrid. Also, there are small mentions of rape and anorexia in this chapter.**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.**

0000000000

 **Hiccup's POV**

"Have a good day, love!" shouted my mom from the front door. It was embarrassing, but I didn't care, and I waved back as I ran out to the bus. I'd had a small bowl of cereal for breakfast.

I climbed on to the bus and was immediately filled with terror. Snotlout was riding the bus today, it was Wednesday. _Shit._ Snotlout was my dad's cousin's son, and I didn't even know that we were related until a family reunion when I was ten. I never told my parents about being bullied (although they suspected it), and I didn't want my dad to find out that his second cousin was the one tormenting his son. He'd probably start a full-blown family feud.

With my head low, I shuffled down the eisle toward an empty seat. I know it was ridiculous, I was going to be sixteen in five months!

I took out my phone and earbuds, started a playlist, leaned against the window, and stared up at the early fall sky. I took a deep breath and tried to quell the slight pain in my chest. It'd been there for weeks. _It's nothing_. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the lyrics to the song.

My eyes flew open when I felt the seat dip next to me. _Why, today of all days?_ I gulped and slowly pulled out my earbuds.

"Hey, shrimp, how's it going?" Snotlout reached out one arm like he was stretching and let it fall (hard) on my shoulders.

I swallowed again. _Keep cool._ "Okay."

"I saw your mommy give you a little huggy-wuggy before you left the house." _Damn_. Maybe I didn't care if other people saw me hugging my mom and whatnot, but I cared if Snotlout saw, because _this_ would happen.

"Yes, she just got home from a business trip and is really happy to see me. Quite different from what your life must be, your mom probably cries when she realizes you have to come back from school everyday." Yeah, it was mean, but a lot less worse than what he'd said to me.

"Ha, nice try. I bet the only reason she loves you is she feels so bad about regretting that she even had you. She probably wishes every day that her child was like her second cousin-in-law. I _mean_ , I was the first freshman to make the Varsity football team since your dad," he snorted out a laugh, "Remember when you tried out last year? God, I have never seen anyone mess up that badly. Anyway, gotta go." He got up and went back to his seat. I don't know how he did it, he wasn't even witty, but he always left me with tears in my eyes.

I swiped them away with a brush of my hand and went back to my music, turning the volume up loud enough to drown out the sounds of laughing friends.

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 **Astrid's POV**

"You wanna hang out with us tonight? We're going plan for the party." Heather was one of my best friends, but sometimes she could be a total ditz. And occasionally a little bit of a bitch, too. We met when she cheated on a math test using my notes (that she stole from my locker) in seventh grade.

I sighed. "I can't, remember? I have tutoring appointment."

She frowned and dipped a French fry into the catsup on her old, scratched-up school cafeteria tray. "Shit, I forgot. We're going to miss you, you're our third musketeer."

My other, closer, best friend, Ruffnut Thorston, was turning sixteen (along with her twin brother Tuffnut) on Sunday, and they were having a huge birthday party Saturday night. Like, _really_ huge. Tuff played football, basketball, and baseball, and Ruff just made the lacrosse team. _So_ many people were coming. A lot of the sophomore class, as well as some of the junior class, and some seniors and freshman, too.

"Well, you better come the party," said Ruffnut's scratchy, deep voice (which some guys actually found really hot), pointing at me with a carrot,"No one's gonna show up if the infamous Astrid won't be there," she joked.

Last year, I was the captain of the Varsity volleyball team and led us to State Finals, where we won. Ever since, people treated me like a friggin' queen, which kind of nice, but _God_ it was annoying a lot.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm coming," I assured her. Not that I didn't _want_ to go, but I knew that it was going to be exhausting as hell.

"Oh, you should probably bring a date, too," added Ruff, and the fry I had been chewing on fell out of my mouth and onto my tray.

"Ugh... what?" After I basically won the Championship game, I got a lot of date requests, even from some seniors. One guy even asked me to prom. _Prom_. "Why?"

"Well, if you don't want to get raped while your there, you're gonna need someone to get people to back off." Ruff really lived up to her name.

"Alright, fine, I'll find someone," I sighed.

"Oo, you should ask Snotlout," said Heather.

"Maybe," I replied evasively, popping a piece of celery in my mouth.

"Hey, did you know that your tutor kid is, like, his third cousin or something?" said Heather in a gossipy tone.

"Seriously?" I didn't know that.

Heather nodded, smirking. "I heard it from Snotlout myself."

"That kid is _weird_. He's like four feet tall," said Ruff.

"I know, he looks like he's fucking anorexic or something."

I frowned down at my food. Hiccup _was_ really thin. He had always been that way, though. Yesterday, when I got home from school, I went down to our basement and found all my old school pictures. He and I had both gone to West Cowell Middle School, and we took class pictures every year there. We had to stand in alphabetical order, so I was always between him and Fishlegs Ingerman. Back then he was really short, and even though he was now getting taller, he had still retained his skinny frame. He was still so _scrawny_. _I guess he's just like that naturally._

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 **Hiccup's POV**

"Well, it's 4:45," said my mom, walking into the living room. I was sitting on the couch, trying to watch Bones, but there was a large, furry object on my lap, blocking my view. I shoved Toothless off and made him sit beside me.

"I know, I have exactly fourteen minutes left on my show, then I'll go right over there."

She frowned. "Maybe you could just watch it tonight, so that you won't be late?"

Why don't parents understand that we know exactly what we're doing when it comes to TV?

" _Mom,_ it's fine."

"Alright, then," her face filled with disgust when she looked to television where Dr. Brennan and her team were examining another murdered corpse, "Ugh, how can you watch this?"

"What? I think it's interesting," I scoffed.

My mom shivered. "Do you want a snack?" _Think of a lie, think of a lie..._

"I had a big lunch," _Not good enough_ , "Also, even though this is a good show, I can't eat while watching it. Y'know, as they _peel the flesh off of the skele-_ "

My mom through her hands up and covered her ears. "Ach! Okay, okay! I'm leaving!"

I smiled and gave Toothless a hug, snuggling up against his warm coat. The show finished at exactly 4:59, and I clicked off the TV, unfurled myself from a comfortable ball and stood up, stretching. Toothless frowned at me, it was like he was saying "Where is my human going? He must stay warm and comfy next to me."

"Bye, mom!" I called out as I slipped on my shoes, a hoodie, and a jacket. I was freezing.

"Goodbye, love! Have a good time!" _It's math tutoring, not a date!_ "Be home by 6:30!"

I stepped outside into the brisk air. I blew on my hands and rubbed them together. Astrid's house was two doors down to the right, then straight across our street, Nadder Avenue. Her home was two stories, and was painted light blue, with yellow and white trim. The door and the shutters were bright red, and the porch had white wicker furniture on it. It was simple, but with just the right amount of pizzaz.

I climbed the two steps and walked across the worn wood floor to the door. I almost rang the doorbell, but I thought that that might be kind of rude, so I gave a light knock. I waited for a few seconds, then...

"Hi, Hiccup." Astrid opened the door and gestured for me to come inside. The Hofferson's didn't have a foyer, I simply walked into a living room. There was a wide, open doorway leading into a dining room to my left, a staircase going down on my right, and a hallway in front of me that must of led to the kitchen and maybe another room.

"Hey." We stood there awkwardly for a moment before Astrid finally cleared her throat and spoke. "Our house is set up kinda weird... You'd think the stairs leading up would be in the front, but they're in the back... So, this is the living room, and, obviously down there is the basement... the dining room... in there is the the kitchen, and that door in the hallway is the downstairs bathroom... and then when you turn left in the kitchen is the office/computer-stuff room."

I put my hands in my pockets. "So, where are we going to, uh, work?"

Astrid frowned. "Well, I was planning on the office, but I think that my dad is in there making business calls or something, 'cause I came up from the basement a couple minutes ago and the door was locked. We can't go downstairs, my little brothers are playing Wii. _Loudly_." Even as she was speaking, I could hear little-kid giggling and squealing emitting from somewhere below me.

"Okay, so..."

"I have a desk in my room, I think it'll work." _Her room?_ _Okay, keep cool._

"Sure," I said, my voice an octave higher. Astrid raised her eyebrows slightly gave me a bit of a weird look.

"Well then, follow me. You can leave your jacket on the bench, here." She led me down the hallway, I turned my head and looked at the walls as we walked. On one side, there were several soft watercolor paintings, the kind that you see in the 'Home' section at somewhere like Target or TJ Maxx. On the other wall, there were three rows of school pictures. On the top, stretching horizontally, was photo after photo of Astrid through the years. Ten of them, from kindergarten to ninth grade (we hadn't taken tenth grade pictures yet). Below her, two rows of boys, only the middle one only went to third grade, and the bottom one went to second.

We entered the kitchen and turned left. Ahead of us, there was a closed door that I heard a muffled voice through. We made another left, and then we were walking up stairs. By the time we got to the top, my legs were shaking a bit and I was short of breath.

"You okay?" Astrid was looking at me with slight concern. I tried to take an unnoticeable deep breath and replied as normally as possible, "I'm fine." I waved her off. She gave me one more look, but dropped the issue and started walking down the hallway. She turned to the last door on the right, which I assumed was the entrance to her bedroom. I was wrong.

"Like I said, the architecture is really messed up." We had walked into a small bathroom, containing only a shower, toilet, and sink with cabinets underneath. It was decorated in blue, green, gray, and white. I immediately deduced it to be Astrid's bathroom. It was clean, organized, and had the air of a no-muss, no-fuss attitude. Not that I stalked Astrid to know her that well, she was just that kind of person.

We walked across the white-tiled floor and red rug to yet another door. She opened it, and I nearly fainted when I came to the full realization of where I was. Her bedroom was in the front of the house, in the corner closest to my home. It was small, but not too small. The walls were painted a pale, pale beige, she had orange, white, and pink plaid curtains hanging from the tops of three tall windows, her bed was twin-sized, with dark wood post like a princesses. It had a large, cushy comforter that matched her curtains, and was covered in lots of different shaded blue pillows. There was a desk made out of the same colored wood as her bedposts between two of the windows. There was also a closed closet, and a massive green beanbag with a volleyball on top.

As I stood there, gawking like an idiot, Astrid was already walking across the room to the desk. I shut my jaw quickly as she rifled threw papers and books.

"Hmm... I was studying earlier on my bed..." she leaned over onto the bed and reached her arm under the avalanche of cushions. _Oh, God, her ass is..._ I felt my face turned bright crimson and I quickly tried to stop my thoughts went I felt my pants tighten slightly. I moved over to desk as fast as I could and sat down in the chair, pulling my hoodie down over my crotch just as she stood up. "Aha! Got it."

She moved the volleyball off the beanbag and dragged it over next to me, plopping an Algebra 2 textbook onto the desk. She sat a little lower than me.

"So, I've kept all my assignments for this year so far, there's only nine, so I was thinking you could just look through them a bit and tell me what I'm doing wrong?" Astrid put her elbows on the wood and rested her face in her hands.

I cleared my throat as silently as I could, "Yeah, okay."

"Here they are." And I got to work. As I skimmed through the lesson one and two assignments, I was finding nothing wrong, so I figured that I should probably make conversation as I went.

"So, you have brothers?"

"Yeah, two of them. One is ten, the other's nine. They're a nightmare, always getting into my personal space. D'you have any siblings?" I shook my head no.

"Ugh, you have no idea how lucky you are."

"Hmm, I always thought it would be nice to have a big sister or something."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind a big sister. She could give me advice and stuff." I finished lesson two and went on to lesson three.

"Your dad's a business guy?"

"Yeah, he works at the bank."

"Which one?"

"Berk Bank." I tried not to, but I giggled a little. I looked to Astrid apologetically. To my surprised, she laughed.

"I know. It's owned by American Express, anyway, and I don't get why they don't call it that. The name 'Berk Bank' sounds absolutely ridiculous." She grinned at me. She was cute when she smiled, her nose scrunched up, and most of the happiness shone threw her deep blue eyes. "Your dad's a lawyer, right?"

"How did you know that?"

"There's this pamphlet thingy that you can get in the school office. It tells about the people who had a lot of influence on Berk High." _Oh, yeah, the football stuff._

"Do you play sports?" I thought about telling her that I had a good shot at the team this year, but that would be stupid.

"Unless you count the Chess Club, which I do," I replied. I hadn't meant for it to be funny, but she let out a snorting laugh. I'd heard people in romance movies saying 'their laugh is like music'. Astrid's was as far from music as you could get. I liked that.

My heart sank when I saw a wrong problem, and I realized we would now have to talk about math. We continued for the next hour, only speaking of equations and such, but the laughter never fully let her eyes. She smirked whenever I stuttered.

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I stood on the porch, Astrid holding the door open.

"So, I've got to practice tomorrow, would Friday work? Same time?" She was asking me back. _Remember, it's not a date_.

"Yeah. Your house again?" Please let it be her bedroom again, too. Not that I was trying to get her in the sack, I just wanted us to have another talk just like the one before, and I was afraid that would happen if her family was all around us.

Her eyebrows knit together. "Oh, wait. We're having some workmen come to put a railing around our back porch." _Ask her over, ask her over!_

"My house would work."

She nodded. "Okay. Just to make sure, which one is it?"

I turned and pointed, she followed my finger with her eyes. "It's the one with the stone bricks a quarter way up, then brown cedar siding the rest of the way."

"Okay, got it. Bye, Hiccup, see you soon."

"Bye, Astrid."

She closed the door, and I walked back home, using all my willpower not to look back. I had just gotten to my front steps, when a brown, 1975 Plymouth Duster creaked into our driveway. A bald man with a bushy blond mustache squeezed out of the driver's side.

"Hey, Hiccup! How ya doing'?"

"Hi, Gobber!" Gobber Bradley was one of the most... _interesting_ people I had ever met. He had lost his left hand when he had been trying to mow his lawn and watch a baseball game through his window at the same time. Apparently, someone had made a home run, and he was so excited he tripped over a rock, and the mower took his hand clean off. He was one of the greatest people I knew. Mostly because, even though he was the football coach and a big macho guy, he didn't treat me badly because I didn't like sports.

He ran over to me and picked me up in a somehow not bone-crushing hug.

"OH! There's my favorite fishbone!" He set me down gently.

"Thanks a lot," I said, my voice dripping with fake sarcasm.

He laughed, big and booming, like my father. "I texted yer dad a few minutes ago, he said you guys are all set up."

"Okay." We started walking around the house to the backyard. "Wait a second, how do you text and drive with one hand?"

Gobber patted me on the back, "Oh, ya know me, Hic, I got me ways."

I smiled. We turned around the corner of my house. Toothless and Skullcrusher ran to greet us, and I was nearly knocked down. Even Cloudjumper came down from his seat on the deck to give Gobber an affectionate rub. My mom and dad were over by the grill. A card table was set up next to it. My mom came over to us and put an arm around me, kissing the top of my head.

"Hey, Val, it's great to see you back."

"It great to see you too, Gobber." They hugged and Gobber made funny faces over my mom's shoulder to me, causing me to have to stifle giggles.

When they broke apart, Gobber asked, "Stoick's doin' to the cookin', right?"

My mom nodded, then walked away to see how my dad was doing with the grill. Goober turned to me. "Thank God. Whenever I eat anythin' o' hers, it stays with me for a good six months." He patted his stomach and laughed at his own joke.

The cookout was great, we all sat around, laughing, telling stories. I ate half my steak, then I slipped the rest under the table to Toothless.

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That night, after Gobber went home, we all cuddled up on the couch and watched Roman Holiday **(** **SPOILER COMING FOR THIS MOVIE)** , one of my parents favorite movies. I sat between them, soaking up their warmth. Usually my mom always went into a huge rant at the end of this film, about how she couldn't believe that Joe and Princess Ann didn't have one final kiss, but tonight was different. I thought she seemed a little weird during the cookout. After _THE END_ faded from the screen, my mom picked up the remote and turned off the television. She reached over and clicked on the lamp, then turned to my father and I.

"I need to tell you something," she began seriously, "My job, I'm gone so much." My dad and I stayed quiet and still. "They want to promote me." _Oh God, she's going to be gone even more?_ "Oh no no, it's a good promotion, I promise!" She said quickly at the sight of our faces. "Instead of traveling around America for two weeks every two weeks, they want me to go overseas for one week every three months!" She smiled with a hint of sadness. "We could all go as a family, too. The company would pay for it."

"Val! That's wonderful!"

My dad and I both started to smile, but our grins faltered when we saw that my mom wasn't.

"There's just... before I can get promoted, they want me to..." she looked down at her knees, "To go to Bejing for three months."

My eyes widened and I looked at my dad in horror. _Please don't let this happen._

He looked shocked, and asked my mom what was going on. She explained, tears breaking through her eyelashes until she was crying.

"I- I don't want to have- to be away for- for that long," she sobbed, "But if I go, I'll be able to spend more time with you."

"We'll Skype you every night," said my dad softly, attempting a smile.

"Okay," she whispered, "I love you both so much." My dad pulled her close, sandwiching me in between them. I couldn't believe it. _Three months?_ But she was right, then she'd be here more often. I sank into a comfortable position while my parents voices spoke beside, stuff about her living conditions over there, the money, if she would be safe, what she'd be doing. I wanted to listen, but exhaustion tugged at my eyelids and made them droop, and that's how I fell asleep, in my parents arms.

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 **A/N: I wanted this to be uploaded as fast as possible, so I didn't have time to proofread it, sorry. I know I'm having Hiccstrid happen quickly, but I want them to be together so damn much! Please review, I hope you enjoyed it :)**


	5. Colliding

_CHAPTER 5: COLLIDING_

 **A/N: Thank you for all of the positive support! Please enjoy! (Also, this story is taking place in the fall of 2014)**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks.**

0000000000

 **Hiccup's POV**

Thursday passed quickly. I didn't see Astrid at all (we didn't have any classes together), but I'd half-hoped that she would've come to the library to see me. Not that I was desperate for human company, Fishlegs and I had English together, so I did talk to him. We both lacked the ability to come up with fictional tales, if you didn't count my never-ending Astrid fantasies.

When the bell rang at three o'clock and I made my way to the bus, I passed the school office and a flyer on the window caught my eye: **2014** **FOOTBALL TRYOUTS, SEPTEMBER 15 - SIGN UP IN OFFICE**. That was on Monday. _Dad will be_ _disappointed if I don't._ Without thinking, I opened the ugly green door and walked up to the secretary's desk.

"How may I help you?" asked Ms. Amundsen cheerily. I hooked my thumbs in my backpack awkwardly.

"I'm, uh, I'm here to sign up for- for football?" For some unknown reason I'd turned the statement into a question.

"Oh," her eyebrows shot up into her poofy, '80s style bangs in surprise. She quickly realized what her reaction had been and her face forcibly softened. "Well, here's the sheet. Good luck." She pushed a piece of paper over to me. I took a pen out of a plastic flowered cup and wrote _Hiccup Haddock, 10th_ on the line next to number 19, trying to ignore _Snotlout_ _Jorgenson, 10th_ in the number 3 space near the top of the page.

"Thank you," I said, putting the pen back in the cup. She gave me a little wave and I left.

 _What the hell did I just do?_ I asked myself in panic as I climbed onto the bus.

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We had a family dinner that night, my mom made macaroni and cheese, which I had a full serving of. We sat there, talking, then suddenly I felt a little nauseous.

"I'm gonna go to bed," I announced, as normally as I could, and got up from the table.

"Alright. You have another tutoring session with Astrid tomorrow?" My mom asked, sipping from her water.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Goodnight, love."

"Sleep well, son."

"'Night, mom. 'Night, dad."

I went upstairs and to the bathroom to change into my pajamas and brush my teeth. My stomach had become a little more unsettled, and I figured going to the bathroom would probably help. I slipped down my pants and sat on the toilet. I tried to shit, but nothing happened except for a little trickle of brown urine. _What the fuck?_ Even though I was alone, I was embarrassed, so I stood up, went to bed, snuggled up against Toothless, and tried to forget about it.

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 **Astrid's POV - On Friday**

I pressed my earbuds hard into my ears, turning up the volume on my music and trying focus on my math while the builders pounded away outside. I had even closed my curtains, hoping it would make the racket a bit quieter. I twirled my volleyball in my fingers as I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I checked my phone for the time: _4:37._ Almost time to go over to Hiccup's house.

I still didn't know what to think of him. I didn't seen him at all in school, he was probably taking a bunch of genius class, and, like he'd said on Wednesday, he ate lunch in the library. I was kind of... excited to be seeing him again. Hmmm... _excited_ wasn't really the right word. More... relieved. I had only talked to him two times, but I felt I could be more relaxed around him. He wasn't part of all the popular stuff that made up my life. He and I revolved around different suns, we were in two different solar systems. Now, our worlds were colliding.

He was weird, though. He stuttered through almost every sentence, which was kind of endearing, but... If he just loosened up a little. Like that joke about the Chess Club, that was funny, but then he was all awkward again. And there was some underlying quality about him. I just _didn't know what to think._

The reminder on my phone went off, telling me it was 4:55. I sighed and rolled off my bed, spiking the volleyball into the corner. I grabbed my navy blue messenger bag off the floor stuffed my phone and earbuds into it, along with my math textbook and notebook. I jumped down the stairs two at a time and entered the kitchen. My mom was slicing strawberries at the sink, simultaneously squinting at a cookbook. My mom's head of a department at a technology company and spends her day selling smartphones and computers. She was extremely busy because the iPhone 6 was coming out, and was trying to make it up to us by cooking from scratch every night for dinner. She even gave me, Ruffnut, and Heather new iPhones early.

"Hey mom, I'm going to Hiccup's now," I told her loudly over the sound of construction.

She turned and looked at me over her reading glasses. "Okay. I'm making strawberry pie for after dinner."

I laughed. "I'm looking forward to it."

She gave me a skeptical glance. "Uh huh. Well, study hard. See you later."

"Bye."

It was the coldest day yet, and I pulled my cardigan closer around my body as I walked the sidewalk, my eyes locked on the house Hiccup said was his. The heavy wind stung my skin and I reached a hand up to my hair, releasing my braid and letting my blond locks fall around face, hoping they would block the chilly airflow a little.

It had been stressful

I got to the Haddocks' front steps, rubbing my hands together. I was slightly nervous for some reason. I walked across the porch to the oak door and rang the doorbell. It opened, and in the doorway stood a woman who looked like one of those people who used to be model. She had long auburn hair with a few streaks of whitish-gray, a sharp, pointed chin, small nose, and sparkly green eyes. She bore a striking resemblance to...

"Hi! You must Astrid. I'm Hiccup's mother," said the tall, elegant woman.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Haddock," I reached out my hand and she shook it.

"Oh, please, call me Valka." I smiled politely. She stepped to the side, holding the door open and nudged a ginger cat back with her foot. "Come on in." I stepped inside into a foyer. Their home was about the same size as mine, maybe a bit smaller, and was decorated in creams, dark browns, and reds, sort of a... Scotland-castle-mixed-with-log-cabin style. On the left were the stairs, straight ahead was a dining room, to the right was a wide doorway leading into the living room. A counter with stools sort of separated the living room from the kitchen.

"I think Hiccup's upstairs." She gestured to the dark wood stairway. "His room is the second door on the right." _Oh, I'm supposed to go up there?_ My parents were really suspicious if I had a boy up in my room, they had interrogated me about Hiccup before they'd let him come into the house. Apparently Valka and Stoick Haddock were a lot more trusting.

"Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"Oh, I'm okay, thank you." She smiled and walked away to their kitchen and I made my way upstairs. I walked down the hallway to the door she said was Hiccup's and knocked softly. "Uh, Hiccup?"

I heard footsteps, then the door opened and Hiccup's face peeked out. "Um, Astrid, hi."

I shifted on my feet. "Your mom kinda just sent me up."

"Oh! Yeah, that- that's okay. Uh, come on in." He opened the door the rest of the way and the first thing I saw was a large dark object barreling toward me.

"Ah!"

Hiccup stepped in front of me.

"No! Toothless no! Down!" The massive black dog backed off. Hiccup looked at me sheepishly. "Sorry."

I laughed and bent down, setting my bag on the floor, letting Toothless (?) come over to me and petting him. "He's awesome!" I smiled as he kissed my face, his tail wagging madly.

"Yeah, he's my best friend." I looked up at Hiccup. He cringed. "That wasn't supposed to sound as pathetic as it did."

I stood up and picked up my bag. "My stuff is in here."

"Okay, yeah... just, uh, we can work at my desk." His room was painted a sea green and was shaped sort of like a really fat L. In the longer section there was one wide window and a queen bed with a plain wood headboard and blue and beige striped comforter. Next to his nightstand was dresser, he didn't have a closet. In the shorter part of the L was a desk under another window. He didn't have curtains like me, but brown wooden folding blinds instead.

He pulled over an extra chair and we sat down at the simple desk.

"Same thing as last time?" He asked.

"Sure." I pulled _Algebra 2_ and my notebook out of my bag and he got straight to work, looking through my assignments from the past two day and a handed-back quiz. The previous time he had asked me about my family, and for some reason I guess I decided to return the favor.

"Your mom is nice." He tensed slightly. _What'd I do?_

"Yeah, she is," he said quietly.

"What does she do?"

"She's a business consultant."

"Oh, I've heard of that. So, she travels?"

"Yeah. She just got back from Seattle."

"Wow, that's far."

"She's leaving for Beijing on Sunday. Usually she's gone for two weeks, but she's gonna be gone for three months." _Oh, that's why it's a sore subject._

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 **Hiccup's POV**

 _Why did I tell about that? Why would she care?_

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 **Astrid's POV**

"I'm sorry, that must be rough."

"It is, but it'll be fine." He changed the topic quickly. "So, here, you accidentally eliminated the _a_ instead of the _b_. See?" He pointed to a problem with a big red X on it."

"Ugh, dammit. I like the Algebra 2 teacher, sort of. I mean he's nice, but he's as boring as that teacher from _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_." I made a face and Hiccup laughed.

"Yeah, one of the reasons I skipped that class is that I wanted to avoid the dreaded Mr. Milner."

"That's horrible!" He smirked. I shrugged. "Eh, behind his back, we call him Mr. Mildew."

"Yeah, you can't call _me_ horrible!" He scoffed and I cracked up.

"So, anyway," he said, still chuckling, "Do you have any questions about all this?"

"Yeah, could you explain quadratic equations to me? They're my kryptonite, I always forget how to work with them."

"Oh, I can't have someone who doesn't understand quadratic equations in _my_ house!" He said in mock horror, and I giggled uncontrollably. "I have half a mind to kick you out on the street right now!" I was laughing out of my nose now.

When we finished, it was 5:45. I didn't really want him to stop talking. I didn't want our session to end. I had been slouching and snorting with laughter for the past thirty minutes at his dumb little jokes, and he didn't even mind. It was nice to be able to be myself.

Suddenly, Hiccup's face twitched a little, as though he was in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little stomachache. I get them occasionally, they only last a minute." I didn't worry or think anything of it. Later I wished I had.

"Well, I guess we're done."

"Yeah, I guess." He seemed a little disappointed, too. _Could he...? No, he probably doesn't have a crush on me. He probably has one on Heather, or another one of the cheerleaders._

I gathered my stuff and we headed downstairs. I could smell something cooking from the kitchen, it smelled a lot better than mine usually did, but still a little weird, as though some wrong spices had been used. Valka came into the foyer, wearing a waist apron and drying her hands on a towel.

"Oh, you finished already?" She folded the towel and stuffed it in a pocket in her apron.

"Yeah..." said Hiccup, looking down at the floor.

"Well, bye Hiccup, by Mrs. Ha- Valka," I backed toward the door, turned, and put a hand on a knob. I stopped suddenly when Valka said, "Hiccup, walk her home, it's polite." I turned back around, Hiccup was taking a jacket off a hook and slipping on his Converse. He looked up and gave me a nervous, apologetic glance. I knew about this. I had dated four boys since seventh grade, and sometimes when I left a mother or father would say "Walk her out to the car" or "Walk her home" or something like that.

I gave Hiccup a little smile, twisted the knob, and opened the door. We stepped out onto his porch, not looking at each other.

"Sorry about that," said Hiccup, looking at his shoes.

I laughed and looked over at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine."

We were silent until we got to my house.

"Bye, Astrid."

"Goodbye." As I prepared to open the red door, a thought came to my mind. A crazy thought. All day Thursday and Friday, Ruff had been pressuring me to find a date. I'd told her I would ask Snotlout after school. I hadn't done that. I spun around to see Hiccup walking down the steps.

"Hey, Hiccup?" He looked over his shoulder and came back up to stand in front of me.

"Yeah?"

"Um, y'know who Ruffnut and Tuffnut are?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Their, er, their having a birthday party tomorrow night at ten o'clock." _What the hell am I doing?_ "Do you want to come with me?"

He did a double take. "To- to the Thors-? Thorsten's? Uh... em... su- sure?"

I pulled a scrap of paper and a pen out of my bag. "Okay, this is my phone number, we can arrange how to get there." He was looking at me with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. I took his hand and put my number in it. He blinked quickly.

"Are- are you... asking me out?"

I reached behind me and opened the door. I don't know what it was that kept me so collected for the next sentence. "Yes I am." And I disappeared inside.

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 **Hiccup's POV**

 _Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God._

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 **A/N: So, Hiccstrid is happening, but there's the underlying food issues... Please review and stay tuned for more!**


	6. Can't Take It Anymore

_CHAPTER SIX: CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE_

 **A/N: Here comes a more exciting chapter. Also, it should be known that I really, really, really hate Heather.**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.**

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 _Astrid: i got a date for_ _tomorrow night_

 _Ruffnut: tuff told me that no one asked snotlout, now heather is goin with him_

 _Astrid: yea, i found someone else_

 _Ruffnut: who?_

 _Astrid: you'll like him_

 _Ruffnut: just tell me i wont judge_

 _Astrid: you'll see him at the party_

 _Ruffnut: ugh ur too stubborn_

 _Astrid: see u tomorrow_

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 **Hiccup's POV**

"-iccup?" I felt a warm hand rubbing my shoulder softly. "Breakfast's ready, love. Come on." I snuggled deeper into my bed. I heard the person above me sigh. "Alright Toothless, go at him."

I felt a giant bounce from somewhere on the bed, then a giant muzzle turned me over roughly and two large paws pressed down on my chest.

"TOOTHLESS!" I squealed as he ran his wet tongue all over my face. "Blch... uch... ech... Mom, why?!" My mom laughed, holding her stomach. She climbed onto my bed on her knees and rubbed the big fur-ball, giving me a chance to sit up and wipe off my face. My mom leaned over and hugged me. We both stopped laughing and I buried my face in her sweet-smelling neck.

"I'm going to miss you _so_ much," she choked out. I pressed harder into her. Her flight was at 6:30 a.m. on Sunday. I opened my eyes and looked over at my clock: _9:47_. _Less than 21 hours until she'll be gone._

"So, breakfast?" I asked.

She nodded softly. "Your father made waffles and bacon." _Of course he did_. She pulled her body away, but kept her forearms around me. "He's really proud that you're going out for football again." I smiled and looked down. "Are you sure you want to?"

"Of course I do!" I said defensively.

"Okey-dokey, just making sure." Toothless came over and nuzzled my face and my mom raised one hand to pet him.

"What does dad think of tonight?"

"I think it's _about time_ ," said a voice from the doorway. My father came over to the bed.

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, son," he said, chuckling, "I just meant that girls don't know what they're missing. A future football star!" He patted me on the back. _I don't want to disappoint him_. "Alright, family, time for breakfast!"

"Piggy-back ride?" I asked like a little kid. My dad smiled and bent down, I climbed onto his back happily.

He ran down the stairs, and I laughed as I bounced. Sometimes it was just nice to act like you were six when you're with your family.

He turned around backwards and squatted down at a stool. I dropped and twisted to face the kitchen counter and my mom sat down next to me as my dad went and let the dogs outside.

"Well, I'm sure this will be better than the concoction I called food last night," said my mom sheepishly. My mom was a terrible chef and she knew it, so it was easy to say that I didn't want to eat what she cooked.

"How many?" asked my dad, holding a plate of waffles in front of me.

"One, please."

"Maple syrup? Oh, wait, you like powdered sugar." Maple syrup was way too sweet.

"And a piece of bacon, too." I finished my waffle quickly, then nibbled on the bacon as my parents drank coffee and talked about politics.

My mom looked at the clock. "Hiccup, it's almost eleven, you might want to get in the shower." I nodded and got up from my stool.

"HMMM," my dad quickly swallowed, "Take some bacon to eat on the way."

"Okay," I said, and scooped up a handful. I didn't want to eat it, and I didn't plan to, I just didn't want my parents to worry. I knew they wouldn't believe me if I said that I was full (I actually was, though). When I got to the bathroom, I tore the bacon up into little pieces and flushed it down the toilet. I hung a towel on the bar next to the shower and took off my clothes. I stared at my naked body in the full length mirror on the back of the door. _Why is Astrid asking_ me _out?_ She had been laughing at my jokes, yeah, but I never thought that Astrid Hofferson would be interested me for my personality. I was nerdy and lonely and sad and pathetic and scrawny.

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 **Valka's POV**

I pressed my cheek against Stoick's chest as we rocked back and forth to quiet, slow, 80s music. It was 9:37, Hiccup would be leaving in a few minutes. Stoick held me close, and I wished that I could stay there forever. I felt a tear slide down my cheek and into his beard.

"It'll be okay, Val, it'll be okay," he whispered gently into my ear. We guided me over to the bed and we sat down, still holding each other. I opened my eyes and looked up at my husband.

"Promise me that you'll take care of Hiccup?"

"I promise." I stared into his green-gray eyes and he gazed into my emerald ones. There was an unspoken bond between us. I didn't precisely know what it was, but it was there, grasping on firmly, keeping our small family together.

We both jumped when there was a knock on the door and Stoick reached over to his iPhone and turned off the music.

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 **Hiccup's POV**

I heard music coming from my parents bedroom but I needed to know if my outfit was okay. I was wearing jeans, my Converse, a brown T-shirt, and an open, dark green button-down. I had mussed up my hair a little, too. I raised one hand hesitantly, then knocked. The music stopped and I felt the floor rumble as someone walked across it on the other side of the door. My dad opened it and gestured for me to come in. My mom was sitting on the bed, her eyes were slightly red, as though she'd been crying, like she did at dinner. We'd gone out to Antonio's, where I had a salad, explaining that I wanted to "save room" for party food.

"Hey, son."

"Hi, uh, does this look okay?" I said, awkwardly pulling on my shirt. My mom put a hand on my arm.

"You look very handsome. And I like your hair like that, too."

"Yeah, I just thought it might be a little more... in style or something, I dunno." My mom smiled, then gave me hug. "Will you be cold?"

"I'm gonna wear my black hoodie." Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and my mother and I pulled apart.

"That's Astrid," I said. My dad squeezed my shoulder.

"We'll walk you down."

"No!" I said quickly. I tried to correct my rudeness, "I mean... I just, kinda... y'know?"

My parents chuckled and shared a knowing glance. "I understand." He gave me a slap on the back. "Go get that girl, son."

"Thanks," I said, and I meant it. _He's proud of me_.

"Be home by twelve," my mom added as I left the room.

"I will. I love you," I said, and I went down to meet my dream girl.

I grabbed my hoodie off of the hook and took a deep breath. I grasped the knob and opened the door. She was wearing knee-high, moccasin-style brown boots with fur on them, navy blue leggings, a short, butt-hugging red skirt, and white tank-top under a beige, faux fur-lined jacket. She was wearing plain silver studs, subtle makeup, and her golden hair sported a brown headband and was braided loosely over her left shoulder. She smiled when she saw me, her sapphire eyes lighting up.

"Hi, Hiccup."

"H- Hi, Astrid."

We started down the sidewalk, our shoulders touching, our hands not. Since neither of us were sixteen yet, and we didn't want our parents to drive us to a most likely raucous high school party, we were walking to the bus stop two blocks away to take a ride that would drop us off near the Thorstons'. I didn't know what to say, so I spoke the thought that had been on my mind since she asked me to go with her.

"They won't like me," I blurted out.

Astrid sighed and looked down at the ground, then brought her head up to meet my eyes. We were about the same height, so it was easy for her to look directly at me. "They'll just have to get to know you. And, like, our whole class will be there, too."

"No, the _popular_ side of our class will be there."

"Just, be yourself, and say funny stuff, like that Chess Club joke, that was hilarious." We paused at the crosswalk, then strode quickly across the street.

"Well, okay, but- I... I didn't even try to make that, it just popped into my head." Astrid gave me a light punch.

"Exactly! That's what being yourself is." I nodded agreeably, and we went back to silence. I didn't know what she meant. I didn't know what _myself_ was. I felt like I had four sides. Their was the happy me, in front of my parents, the quiet me, in school, the goofy me, in front of Astrid, and then their was the secret me. The weird me that didn't eat because food made me feel strange. I had no idea what was the matter with me, and it was quite some time before I figured it out.

We reached the bus stop and sat down on the bench. Astrid looked at me and her eyebrows scrunched together. She took my bony hand in hers and I felt a flutter in my chest.

"It's gonna be fine, trust me," she assured me.

"What'd Ruffnut say when you told her I was coming?" Astrid looked out into the street.

"Well..."

My eyes widened in panic. "You didn't tell her?!"

"Hey, just relax. _Trust me_." I tightened my grip in her's. We sat there for a few more minutes until the ten o'clock bus pulled up to the stop. We were the only people getting on the nearly empty transport vehicle. We took seats in the very front and were silent as the Berk City Bus drove through the cold evening. When we had gotten on, we had lost are grasp on each other's hands. I thought about retaking her's in mine, but I didn't want to be too forward on a first date.

The bus made two stops before we finally arrived at the stop closest to the Thorston's, a little outside of town. We climbed off and made our way down the street, before turning onto a winding dirt road. Astrid texted me last night and told me that the twins lived on a small farm that didn't have any animals. There were about twenty cars parked along the road, the kind that kids bought when they had just enough money to buy a crappy hunk of metal that moved. I pulled out my phone and checked the time: _10:23_. I started to panic a little and my breath quickened when we got close enough to make out the thumping sound of loud music. I could see bright lights through the trees.

Astrid looked at me worriedly. "Hiccup?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," I said a little too fast.

"No, you're not," she took my took my hand and pulled me into the trees, "Follow me. I've been here a ton of times, there's a fallen tree just about..." she sat me down on a large log. She squatted down and put her hands on my shoulders. "Just breathe, 'kay? Take deep breaths, in... out... Good."

"I'm sorry, I just... I don't- I don't know anybo-" she put a finger to my lips, shushing me.

"It's gonna be _fine_ , when we get there, just stay near me." She sat down next to me as I breathed. My heart felt weird, it was really fluttery and skippy. "We'll just sit here for a couple minutes, then go in, okay?"

"Okay," I said quietly. I was so fucking nervous.

We sat there in silence. _Maybe this'll work out after all. Yeah, I'm gonna see Snotlout, and Tuffnut, and the rest of the football team, but Astrid'll be here with me. She said so._

Suddenly, I heard the vibrating noise of a phone. Astrid reached into her pocket and my eyes grew in wonder when I saw her pull out an iPhone 6.

"How did you get _that_?"

She smirked. "Tell you later," then pressed answer. "Hi Ruff... just coming up to the front door. Or, wait, can I go around back?... Thanks... Yes, I brought my date... you'll meet him in a second!... kay, see you in a minute." She clicked end and turned to me. "Ready?" I nodded, we stood up, and started toward to house again.

"So, we're going around the back?"

"Yeah, I thought that might be... uh, easier for you." She looked at me apologetically.

"Thank you." As we walked through the dark, brush-filled forest, Astrid held on to me for support.

"So, where are their parents?" I had told my mom and dad that they would be there, but once we were there, I realized that that probably wasn't true.

"Well, Ruff and Tuff's mom and dad are sort of 'loose', and they kinda let them do whatever they want, so they went to dinner downtown to get out of the way."

"Wow."

"Yeah, my parents would probably never let me come over here if they knew." I laughed and, even in the dark, I could tell she was smiling. "To get away with tonight I said that Ruffnut, Heather, and a few other girls and I were having a quiet, girly party, and that Ruff's mom would drive me home."

"Nicely done."

"Thank you, I know." There was a small crowd around the front of the big farmhouse, but there was no one in the back. We climbed onto the small porch and Astrid knocked on the door. It opened, and I saw a bunch of people 'partying' in a kitchen before a blond girl, taller than Astrid, wearing a wide-necked beige sweater with a black belt around it filled the doorway.

"Hey, Astrid! So, who's your... oh," Ruffnut looked at me like a something she found on the bottom of her shoe. After walking through a pile of manure.

Astrid noticed and ignored it. She grasped my hand reassuringly and pulled me forward. "This is Hiccup Haddock. I just met him recently. He's very funny." I could tell that Astrid was panicking slightly, she had obviously been hoping for a different reaction from her friend. A fake smile overcame the twin's face and when she spoke, her voice seemed somewhat higher and she was talking quickly.

"Yeah okay nice to meet Hiccup Astrid can I speak to you in here?" We went into the kitchen and Astrid's hand slipped from mine when Ruff dragged her a little ways away from me. I stood there awkwardly, glad that nobody was noticing me. The music was deafening, but I could still hear snippets of the girls talking.

" _You brought_ -?"

"Nice-!"

"-he your tutor?"

"-how I met-"

"-student/teahcer thing?"

"NO!"

"-don't question your choices-"

"You seem to be!"

I watched them out of the corner of my eye and hugged one arm to my side. They came back over to me.

"Hi, uh, Hiccup," Ruffnut said cautiously, "I'm- _sorry_ that I seemed so rude, but, we don't usually... see you at parties."

Astrid sighed, annoyed. "What Ruff is saying is that the whole football team is here and since half of them are trying to date me, they're probably going to be upset. But it'll fine, okay."

"Okay," I said in a small voice.

"Alright then, let's go get you two a drink," Ruff said, pushing us toward a downwards staircase and leading us into a large, open basement filled with even more people. I saw several people I recognized, Snotlout, Heather, and for some reason Tuffnut had a chicken on his shoulder...

"Um... you don't have alcohol here, right?" I said nervously, spotting the stereotypical red Solo cups.

Ruffnut laughed. "What do you think this is, Mean Girls?" Her face turned serious. "Yes, we do, but nobody ever drinks a lot, don't worry." She went off into the crowd, leaving me with Astrid.

She looked at me. "Alright, here we go."

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 _Weirdo_

 _Freak_

 _Ugly_

 _Fishbone_

 _Pathetic_

I walked away from the pulsing house, my head down as I wiped the tears furiously from my eyes. It was only 10:45, but I couldn't take it anymore.

"Hiccup! Hiccup, wait!" I heard Astrid running toward me, but I didn't turn back. Suddenly a hand grabbed onto my arm. I spun around.

"I told you, Astrid! I told you!"

"Snotlout is an asshole! The whole football team are jerks! I HATE ALL MY FRIENDS!" Astrid was suddenly screaming into the night. "I MEAN, RUFF IS OKAY, BUT I FUCKING HATE HEATHER! I HATE SARAH AND EMILY AND ANYA AND MEGAN AND ALL OF THEM!" She looked at me, her dark blues eyes cold as stone. "We're leaving, but first I have to do something. Wait here." She stomped off, and I stood there, dumbstruck.

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 **Astrid's POV**

I didn't know what came over me, I just couldn't take it anymore. I marched through the front door and people parted for me like the Red Sea. I barely remember what happened, I was so intoxicated with anger. I went through each room until I found her.

Punching would leave too much of a mark. I brought the palm of my hand straight across Heather's face and she squealed. The next thing I knew, I was back outside, running down the road toward Hiccup.

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 **Hiccup's POV**

I was still in the same position when Astrid came sprinting back to me. Not stopping she took hold of my arm and dragged me with her.

"Wait wait wait hold up!" I choked out, panting. We were almost to the highway. Astrid was bent down her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Suddenly the world felt as though it had gone pitch black. Spots danced in front of my eyes and I stumbled. I quickly sat down on the ground, rubbing my head.

"Are you okay?" asked Astrid breathlessly.

"Am _I_ okay? What did you just do?"

"Ah, you'll here about it on Monday," she waved her hand dismissively. I didn't even bother to argue. Astrid stretched her hand down to me, I accepted it and she pulled me up.

"When's the next bus?" I asked as we began walking.

"Uh, eleven."

We reached the main road and headed to the bus stop. We had three minutes to get there.

"So," said Astrid, "You're going out for football?" One of the first things Snotlout had done when he saw me was announce to everyone how he had seen my name on the signup sheet.

"Yeah, my dad, he..." I trailed off. We reached the bus stop just as a pair of headlights appeared a little ways down the road.

Astrid nodded. "I understand. You don't have to do that for him, y'know."

"I know, but even if I don't make the team, he'll still be proud that I _tried_. And it's not like I can quit now, after..." _the announcement_ "Everyone would think of me as a coward."

"I wouldn't." The bus pulled up in front of us, and I was thankful I didn't have to reply to her... statement. We climbed on, and sat down in the same place as before.

We were silent for a while.

"So, how did you get the iPhone 6 early?"

And I listened to her talk.

I hadn't had any party food.

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 **A/N: So, yes, that chapter was full of Hiccstrid, but now we're in for a rough time ahead of us.**


	7. Tryouts

CHAPTER 7: TRYOUTS

 **A/N: So, I don't want you guys to think that all this story is going to be about is high school drama, because it won't be. This story will be focused around Hiccup battling his ED, and Astrid and his parents helping him through it. I just have to set all that up first.**

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 **Hiccup's POV**

Usually I lay in bed for a while on the weekends. Not that Sunday. As soon as my alarm went off at 5:15 am, I jumped out of bed, slipped my jeans on over my boxers and put on my jacket. My parents said that they were going to get up at five so that my mom could take a shower and my dad could load her luggage into the car. Our plan was to leave for the airport at 5:30. I hated the plan. Well, not the plan, just _why_ we had to have one. My mom belonged at home with us, watching movies and having cookouts with Gobber and laughing and loving, not off in China telling doofus business people how to run _their_ company.

I went to the bathroom and trickled a small stream of dark piss ( _w_ _orry about that later_ ), then headed down the oak stairs. Our garage was attached to our house, so if you went out a door in the back corner room behind the kitchen (the mudroom), you walked into it. My dad was there, loading my mom's suitcases into the back of the pickup. She was bringing one large roller as luggage and a duffel bag as a carry-on.

"Hi, dad," I said, stepping onto a little rug on the cement floor. The garage door was open, and the dark outdoors gave off the-sun-is-going-to-rise-in-a-little-while feeling.

My dad finished tying down the baggage and shut the tail gate. "Good morning, Hiccup," he said solemnly. He looked exhausted. He tried to give me a smile, but it didn't make it to his eyes and ended up as a sad little smirk. I felt a strange surge of anger toward my mom. Yeah, if she went, her reward would be amazing, but didn't she realize how much pain and sadness she would cause? How much hurt she would leave in her wake?

I walked over to him across the concrete, shivering as my bare feet came into contact with the cold stone. When I got close to him, he spread his arms and I simply walked into him as he held me. My fists curled into his rumpled gray Berk Viking sweatshirt. _This is stupid. I'm going to be sixteen for God's sake, I should be able to handle my mother leaving for a little bit..._

"Where's mom?" I mumbled into his chest.

"Just blowing her hair dry, you know how long it takes her," he attempted a chuckle, but it got lost in his throat before it could escape from his mouth.

We stayed that way for a couple more seconds, before he pulled away suddenly. I turned to see what he was looking at. My mom's now-dry hair was in three long braids that were braided together down her back, and she was wearing sweat pants, a simple brown sweater, and her dark green, knee-length pea coat.

She looked at us sadly. "Hi. Are- are we ready to go?" _No, no we're not. We will never be ready._

My father nodded and I went inside for a moment to put on my sneakers. When I came back out, the truck was started and my parents were already inside. I went around to the passenger side and climbed over my mom to sit in between her and my dad. My dad backed out of the garage and started on the memorized route to the airport. He drove with his left hand and draped his right arm across my shoulders to rest his free hand in the space between my mother's shoulder blades.

He seemed to realized that his depressing mood wasn't helping the situation, so when he started to talk when we turned onto the highway, it wasn't anything about what was happening at that moment.

"So, tryouts are tomorrow, right?" he asked me cheerily. I nodded sleepily. My mom stroked my head. "Well, son, how d'you think you'll do?"

"I don't know." Oh, I knew, alright.

My dad turned onto the exit that led to the airport. "I was just talking to Gobber, and he said that fifty-seven kids signed up. Only thirty-eight will make it. Twenty for varsity, eighteen for JV." A football team only needs eleven team members, but there are extras so that people don't have to play every game or if someone gets hurt.

"Okay." I didn't care. I didn't want to talk about sports, but I knew that was how he was going to cope at the moment.

My mom kissed the top of my head. "You have to tell me about it tomorrow night."

We were silent for the rest of the way. I was exhausted and felt weak. I had gotten home at about eleven from the party the previous night, which was an hour sooner than my parents had expected. I had said goodbye to Astrid at her house, which was awkward, and I hadn't known if I should've kissed her or not, but I blocked it from my mind when I got home. My parents had been watching Casablanca, which I'd sat down for the end of. First, they asked me if the party went okay, and I said it was, but that I was just really tired. Sometime before the end of the movie, I'd fallen asleep, then woken up for a moment to my dad setting me down in my bed. My parents had told me goodnight, and I'd set my alarm then fell right back to sleep.

"Here we are," said my dad, jolting me out of my daydream. We were in the airport parking lot. I looked at the time: _5:53._ The flight from Wilder Airport to Bejing left at 6:30. We got out of the car and I took the duffel bag while my dad grabbed the suitcase. We walked across the parking lot toward's the bright entrance. When we got to the automatic doors, my mother noticed my panting.

"I can take it, love," I said gratefully, sliding the duffel off my shoulder and into my mom's arms. We stayed close as we made our way in the direction of the airport McDonald's. When we arrived, we chose a small table to sit down at and stared at the menus.

"What do you two want? I can go order," my dad offered. I stared at the menu while my mom told him.

"Hiccup? What do you want?"

"Um, just some scrambled eggs."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

I folded my arms on the table and rested my head. My father returned a couple minutes later with a tray of food. We ate quietly, watching people bustle around the airport. When we finished, my dad collected our trash and threw it away.

When we got to security, we had to let my mom go on without us. She hugged me first, wrapping her strong arms around me tightly. I pressed my face into her collarbone, never wanting to let go. I averted my eyes when she and my father kissed, not that I was disgusted by it, but I knew how much my he would miss her (how much _I_ was going to miss her) and I couldn't take it. We waved as she walked away, then headed back out to the car, a broken family once again.

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My dad didn't get home until nine that night, the time he usually got home when my mom was gone. He sometimes didn't park the car in the garage, so I was startled when he came in, having had no warning of the garage door opening. When he walked in the front door, I was on the couch, finishing up some last-minute homework.

"Hello, son." He looked over at the kitchen, as though he was half-hoping that my mom would be in there, trying to cook.

"Hey, dad." He was always this way when she wasn't here, but I knew that this time was going to be even harder than before.

"I- I got an email from your mother," he held up his phone, "We're going to Skype at nine fifteen." I looked at the clock.

"I'll get it set up, then." My dad pulled his computer out of his bag and handed it to me. I walked over to the counter and opened the laptop. Toothless scratched at my ankles and I absentmindedly rubbed the top of his head. My dad came over and sat down on a stool next to me. We waited. 9:06. 9:07. 9:08.

"Are you hungry?" My father asked.

"No, I'm good." I hadn't had anything to eat that day since the scrambled eggs.

"Did you have lunch?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you have for dinner?"

"I warmed up some frozen pasta." That part wasn't a 100% lie. I had warmed up some pasta, but I'd simply dirtied the plate and stuffed the food down the sink. I'd found this trick about a year ago and learned that it kept my dad from making me meals. I wasn't hungry. I didn't want to eat. I felt too... _something_ to eat.

9:10.

"You might want something more." I sighed and stood up. I knew he'd just keep telling me that. _Better give him what he wants._ I went into the kitchen and took a granola bar out of the cupboard.

9:11. 9:12. 9:13.

I finished the granola bar.

9:14.

The computer screen lit up with the words "Valka Calling". My dad clicked accept.

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I walked in the front door the next morning, letting Toothless off the leash. It was pretty warm that day, the high was 65 degrees Fahrenheit. I sighed as I grabbed my backpack. My dad hadn't gotten up yet. He was usually like this for a couple days after my left, he'd get up at the last minute possible to go to work. The Skype call with my mom last night had been fine, she'd told us what China was like, we said we missed her, she said she missed us, and I went to bed, but my dad had stayed up for I don't know how long.

I gave Toothless one final pet and walked out. I had woken up a little late, too, and it was already 7:25. I sat on my front steps as I waited for the bus. I took out my phone and played Flappy Bird, a new game I had found. Just as I crashed when I got to 76, the bus pulled up. The ride was quiet, and nobody bothered me, so that was nice. I was pretty nervous, because Astrid had said that whatever she had done at the party would be all over the school. And I was quite sure it involved me.

I got off the bus in front of the school and walked in the front doors. I had been right. As I made my way to my locker, people glanced at me and whispered. I tried to keep my head down and not look at them. As I was shuffling through my locker, a familiar shadow surrounded me.

"Hiccup! I couldn't find my phone and haven't been able to contact you!" A breathless voice hurriedly spoke behind me.

I whirled around in surprise. "Wait, you heard what happened?"

Fishlegs' face scrunched in confusion. "Heard about what? I've been wanting to tell you all weekend that I signed up for football, too?"

My mind relaxed slightly, but my heart still pounded at the speed of sound in my chest. God, going on a date with Astrid Hofferson was giving me panic attacks. "Oh, okay, that's great." Fishlegs was the closest thing I had to a friend, and vice versa.

The large blond boy saved his hands in front of me. "No, no, no, what happened that you think I knew happened?"

I rubbed my forehead. "Honestly? I don't even know. I... uh, I went to the Thorston twins' birthday party and-"

His eyes widened and he cut me off. "Seriously?! How did you even get in?"

I glared at him, annoyed. "If you would ever fucking let me finish a sentence I would tell you!" I took a deep breath, trying to steady my now-pounding headache. "Astrid Hofferson invited me," I held up hand to keep him from interjecting, "Don't even say anything on that. I left the party early and she started to leave with me, then ran back and did something, I don't know what. When she came back she was fucking sprinting so fucking fast. Then we left. Sorry about the language but you irritate me and when I'm irritated I swear." I was kind of scaring myself, I was never that forward or talkative or bitchy. Mostly I kept my head down, occasionally talking to Fishlegs or a teacher, and I spent most of my time at home hunkered down on the couch or in my dark bedroom.

"Oh, sorry. So, she didn't tell you what she did?" I shook my head. "Huh, I always thought she was a bit insane..." he caught himself, "But as a girlfriend I bet she's great!"

I face-palmed. "She's not my girlfriend," I muttered, "Or... I don't know-"

"Hiccup!" I turned to see Astrid striding toward me, ignoring the glances she was getting.

"Astrid!" I whispered nervously, "What did you do?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied breezily, trying to seem nonchalant, "I kind of slapped Heather Collins on the face."

My eyes became as round as coins. "What, why?"

"Because she's a bitch and I hate her and I've always hated her and I don't want to be around people like her anymore," not skipping a beat, she turned to Fishlegs, who had been watching the exchange like it was a life-or-death tennis match, and stuck out her hand, "Hi, I'm Astrid Hofferson, who are you?"

He stared at her, bewildered, then shook her small, strong hand in his enormous, gentle one. "Fishlegs Ingerman," he said in a small voice. I rolled my eyes.

Just when they released hold of each others fingers, Ruffnut burst threw a small huddle of people on my left. "Astrid! It's all over! I mean, only the people who were there and like the cheerleaders and sports people know exactly what went down, but most everyone kinda knows you did _something_. Hi, Hiccup." I gave the tall girl a small wave in response.

"Thanks, Ruff, for being on my side," Astrid says gratefully, but the Thorston frowns at her.

"Uh, yeah, about that, everyone's kinda choosing sides now." I looked at her in horror. _What?_ This was so weird, no one ever spoke to me before, and now I was caught in the middle of a classic high school drama. _I should not have gone with her, she's way to good for me_.

Astrid pursed her lips. "Y'know, I don't really care about that. But, just to be curious, who's siding with who?" She was so cool, so collected.

Ruffnut had been glancing at Fishlegs since she'd arrived, and, as she answered Astrid, she was staring him intently, causing him to sift in discomfort. "Well, about half the cheerleaders are with Heather, just the ones who are too stupid to spell their own names. I think the whole volleyball team is with you, though. Snotlout is dating her, now, so, the football players are pretty much on her side."

"What about Tuff?"

"Uh, he's kinda neutral. 'Cause he's Snot's best friend, but he knows I'll murder him if he turns against you."

"Thanks, Ruff." The bell rang and the crowds started to move around the halls. Astrid turned to me. "I'm sorry about all this."

I shrugged. "'s okay."

She started to turn away, than came back. "Meet me outside the library before lunch." I nodded, speechless. _She wants to see me again? But, I'm causing so much trouble_.

I looked at Fishlegs and Ruff. "Well, uh, we better go... class." As I bent down to grab my textbook and stuffed it in my bag, I heard Ruff talking.

"You have AP Biology next, right?" For a second I thought she was talking to me, but then I heard Fishlegs' voice.

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, wanna walk me there?"

 _Ruffnut Thorston takes AP Biology?_ I straightened and saw them walking away. Suddenly I had a huge headrush and had to lean back against my locker to steady myself. _It's nothing, I just stood up too quickly._

 _Right?_

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I stood close to the wall right outside the library and stared at my shoes. The bell had only rung a couple minutes before, and my class had been only a few classrooms away, so it didn't take me long to get there. I took a deep breath and tried not to panic about the coming afternoon. The morning intercom announcements said that tryouts would be held at 3:30 on the football field, and it reminded me how much I wanted to make the team. My dad would be so proud of me.

"Hey." I looked up to see Astrid in front of me.

"Uh, hi. So, um, are we gonna go to lunch... or are you going to go? Or-" Astrid shut me up by putting a finger to my lips, and kept it there as she talked.

"I don't want to go to the cafeteria, it'll just be too annoying. Can we just stay in the library?" I nodded, feeling my face flush. She took her finger off my mouth. We walked into the library and sat down at an empty table.

"The math lesson was kind of confusing today, do think you could help me?" asked Astrid, tentatively pulling out her textbook.

"Yeah, of course. I mean, I am your tutor after all." We worked on math, and spoke nothing but math, for the next five minutes until I couldn't take it anymore.

"Why, Astrid?" I blurted out.

She looked up at me, startled. "What?"

"I mean, you could've had your pick of any guy in this whole school, or any school for that matter. Why did you invite me?"

She took a deep breath, and stared down at her paper. When she exhaled, her eyes traveled back up to meet mine. "Because, I just... I'm so sick of it. All the pathetic drama and athlete boyfriends and people that have absolutely no substance." She kept her gaze on me the entire time. "I... we met like, three times, and I just could tell... Well, you have substance, Haddock." I blushed and ducked my head down, staring at my too-loose jeans. _I have substance?_ I had no idea what that even meant, but... _Oh God I need to say something!_

"Four times," I muttered unintelligently, not raising my head, but looking up into her ocean blue irises.

"What?"

"When we were little, you fell off your bike and I gave you a Band-Aid." _Did I really just say something that sounds like it came from the How to Be a Stalker handbook?_

But, to my surprise, she smiled, "See? Substance! You _care_ , Hiccup, you _care._ So few people today give a shit about anything."

I coughed awkwardly. "Okay... so, uh, you got number 5 wrong..."

We turned back to the lesson, but Astrid continued to speak. "And, just so you know, I'll be at your football tryouts."

"WHAT?!" My head jerked up and Astrid flinched. _Oh, no, no, no._

"Well, Tuffnut is trying out, too, so Ruff and I are going to just sit on the bleachers together. Is that okay?" She asked tentatively.

I laughed shakily, trying to compose myself. "Haha, yeah, yeah, it's fine. Just, uh, you're about to see how little substance I actually have," I said, gesturing to my non-existent bicep.

Astrid laughed and rested her hand on my shoulder. "Hey, it doesn't matter if you get onto the team. All that matters is if you try."

"Okay." And we went back to Algebra. After a couple more minutes, Astrid threw her pencil down on the table and slammed the textbook with an almighty _thwump!_ that sent my heart pounding.

"No more, just NO." She swept the books and paper into her bag swiftly. "We have, like, fifteen minutes left until fifth hour, bring out your lunch."

My face paled. "What?"

"You told me that you brought lunch and ate it in here, right?"

 _Think of a lie, think of a..._ "Oh yeah," I said, slapping my forehead, "Shit, I forgot it today."

She shrugged. "Eh, it's fine, I'm not that hungry, anyway."

"Me neither."

My stomach growled, and I ground my fist into my belly, hoping to quell the noise.

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I ducked into a bathroom stall in the boys locker room at 3:24, pulling my athletic shorts, T-shirt, and running shoes out of my bag. I didn't want anyone to see me change. I tugged off my shirt, and was instantly greeted my the familiar sight of my prominent ribs and hipbones. I changed into the gym clothes quickly then pulled the shorts back down and sat on the toilet. I felt like I had to shit, but only a two small turds fell into the bowl, along with some piss the color of ale. It was actually lighter than that morning. I had drank a lot of water a couple hours before, so I convinced myself that that was all I had to do. Drink more water.

I left my regular clothes in my bag, hanging on the back of the stall door, and silently slipped out of the locker to join the growing group of boys on the field. Astrid'd had passed me in the hallway between 6th and 7th hour and told me that she would be going down to the bleachers right after the bell rang. I could see her and the other girl sitting in the middle of the silver structures amongst about twenty other girls. God, I wanted to impress her.

"Hiccup! Wait up!" a panting voice came from behind, and I turned to see Fishlegs jogging toward me. "You nervous?" He asked when he got to my side.

"If you don't count the fact that it feels like a herd of buffalo are currently ravaging across my stomach, then no." I said. He nodded in agreement.

"Hey, you've met Ruffnut, right?" I noticed that he was also staring at the two blondes.

"Uh, yeah, briefly." We were almost to the field.

"We walked to biology together, and she's actually really interested in it too, and I was just wondering if you know if she'd be interested in-" his talkative babble stopped short when Gobber's sharp whistle pierced the air.

"ALRIGH', HURRY UP, LAST MINUTE STRAGGLERS!" We were actually right on time, but we still hurried through the gate and lined up next the other boys.

"Okay, listen up," he began, holding his stumped arm behind him with his full one. He was coach of the JV team and only co-coach of the Varsity team, but he made every football-related speech at the school. "Only thirty-eight of you will survive today." I rolled my eyes at his over-dramaticness. Unfortunately, his hawk-like gaze caught that. "DON'T-YOU-DARE-ROLL-YOUR-EYES-AT-ME-HADDOCK! As I was saying-"

I stared at the ground with with my eyes round, my entire body shaking as though it was -30 degrees outside. I didn't even notice what Gobber was saying, something about what we were about to do, all I could hear was the whispers and giggling laughter of the other boys. Gobber wasn't trying to be mean or embarrassing, he just liked to tease me a lot.

I followed awkwardly as the coaches waved everyone over to a row of tackling dummies.

"Alright, everyone line up again, and then we'll move down the line and we'll watch you." I was in the middle of the line, I had gotten separated from Fishlegs and was sandwiched between two seniors that looked like heavyweight wrestlers. As the line moved down I got even more nervous.

Finally it was my turn. I ran up to the first dummy and rammed into it with all my might. I barely moved it. The guys to my left and right laughed, but I tried to block it out as I moved onto the next one. No movement. The next one. No movement. The next four. No movement. I looked up at Gobber and he gave me a pitying glance. There was only one more dummy, but this time, when I ran into it, my arms hit it and were so weak that they flew out to the sides and my chest collided painfully with the training equipment. It knocked the wind out of me, and I slid down to my knees from the impact. But that wasn't even the most embarrassing part. When the guy to my right got to the dummy, he picked me up and moved me to side in one quick movement, then rammed into it with the force of a rhinoceros, moving it at least two feet. I scrambled backwards and stood up awkwardly stumbling over to the group of finished boys, which included a very smug-looking Snotlout. I ignored their whispers and looked up at the bleachers. Astrid was staring at me with a concerned expression. I gave her a small wave, which she returned.

When Fishlegs got done, he waddled over to me and started talking, "I think I did pretty good on those. I mean, I moved them. How 'bout you?"

I glared at him. "I fell down, and I didn't move them at all."

"Oh, sorry."

I accepted his apology with a small wave of my hand and watched the last of the boys finish up. When they were done, the coaches had us follow them somewhere else. Goober jogged back and walked next to me.

"How ya doin', kiddo?" He asked gently.

"Well, I _failed_ , if that's what your asking."

"It isn't. I'm talking 'bout your mum."

I looked down at my sneakers. "Um, I don't know. I'm... I'm okay."

"What 'bout your dad?"

"He's fine. He just... misses her."

Goober put a hand on my shoulder then turned me so I had to look at him. "If ya ever need to talk to somebody, I'm right here." I nodded then stared at the grass. "And don't feel bad if ya don't make this team. I know I say different a lot, but sports don't matter." _They matter to my dad,_ I wanted to say, but I didn't.

Goober went back to stand with the coaches, and we began the next exercise. Two drills later, I was exhausted. Spots danced in front of my eyes, and I could barely stand up, but I kept going.

"Alrigh', for the last drill, you gotta run from this end of the field and back, so line up..." Goober paused as we got into position. "Okay, ready, set, GO!" We took off down the field and I had to try all as hard as I could to keep my eyes open and my feet moving.

"GO HICCUP!" I thought I heard Astrid's voice scream from somewhere to my right, but my senses seemed to be dulling. I was somewhere around three-fourths of the way, and people were already running back past me when my vision started to darken. I tried to moved my next foot forward, but it wasn't working. Suddenly, I had the strange feeling of falling, I felt hard ground covered with grass beneath me, and I knew no more.

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"-cup! Hiccup, can ya hear me?!" I felt a hand patting my face, and I flinched, making some sort of _ymph!_ sound. I heard the person above me sigh happily. "Can ya open your eyes?" I creaked open my eyelids and was immediately greeted by Gobber's relieved face. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and realized I was still on the football field and there was a circle of boys around me.

"Wha- what happened?" I said, raising a hand to my head and rubbing my eyes and forehead.

"You passed out." I looked to my left and saw Fishlegs kneeling next to me.

I pushed myself up further until I was actually sitting and leaned back on my hands. "For how long?"

"Only about thirty seconds or so..."

"Let me through!" A feminine voice pushed itself through the crowd and Astrid appeared between the boys, followed closely by Ruffnut. She ran over to me and fell to her knees. "Are you okay?" She said, her face scrunched with concern, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," I assured her, struggling to stand. She took my left upper arm in her strong, warm hands, I grabbed onto her forearm with my right hand and she helped pull me up.

Gobber put his remaining hand on my back. "Here, let's get you over to the bench..." Astrid kept her hands grasping my arm as they helped me walk. I tried to tell them that I was okay, and I could walk by myself, but they shushed me and didn't stop.

Gobber turned and shouted over his shoulder, "We're all done! You can go home!" I glanced around and saw Fishlegs walking away reluctantly, too.

We got the bench and they sat me down. I jerked my arm away from Astrid's grip.

"I'm _fine_ , really," I whined.

"Ya sure?" Gobber asked, keeping his hand on my shoulder.

" _Yes_ ," I said emphatically, "I think I was just exercising too hard or something..."

"And you didn't eat any lunch, either," Astrid reminded me, and I mentally thanked her for sparking a fire of explanations.

"Yeah, and I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, too, and I'm just kind of stressed right now..." I trailed off. Both Gobber and Astrid knew my mom was gone, and I saw them give each other a knowing glance. "Seriously, I'm okay."

Gobber looked at me, but he seemed pretty convinced. "'Kay then, if ya don't think ya need to see the nurse or..."

I cut him off. "No, I don't." To prove my point, I stood up. "If you don't mind, I have to get home to let my dogs outside."

Astrid didn't say a word, but she followed me back toward the locker room. "I'll wait right here," she said as I disappeared inside. Thankfully, the locker room was already empty. When I came back out, Astrid was where I had left her, along with Ruffnut.

"Um, I'm gonna go then, bye," I mumbled awkwardly and walked around toward the front of the school. They followed me.

"Do you have a ride?" Astrid asked.

I shook my head. "Uh, no, I'm just going to walk home."

Astrid stared at me in surprise. "Our houses are like sixteen blocks away!"

I nodded. "I know." I had walked home from school plenty of time before, when I'd stayed after to talk to a teacher or deal with bullies and missed the bus.

"My parents gave me and Tuff a car for our birthday, but he went to Snot's house, so I'm giving Astrid a ride. You can come," offered Ruffnut.

I looked over at her, startled. "Um, oh, uh, okay, tha- thanks," I stuttered out like an idiot.

So, we piled into the slightly rusty sedan, Ruff and Astrid in the front, me in the back. The ride back was silent, punctuated only by Astrid occasionally asking me if I was sure I was okay. We swerved onto Nadder Avenue, and Ruff dropped Astrid off first. When we pulled alongside my house, I unlatched the door and prepared to get out when the twin grabbed my arm.

I looked into her stern eyes with fear. "Listen up, shrimp. Astrid has been treated like shit by everyone she's ever dated. She's my best friend, and she deserves someone good to her. If you hurt her in any way, I will kick your anus to Uranus and back, got it?"

I nodded fiercely and she let me go. I climbed out of the car and stared into space as the silver car skidded away. _What the fuck?_

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I spent the rest of the day finishing homework, listening to music, and snuggling with Toothless, Skullcrusher, and Cloudjumper (my mom couldn't take him all the way to Bejing) on my bed, wallowing in self-pity and confusion about Ruffnut's threat. My dad didn't get home until nine again that night. We Skyped my mom immediately, and they both asked me how tryouts went. I said it was okay. Gobber obviously hadn't told my dad what had happened, and I prayed that it would stay that way.

I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner, my first meal that day.

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 **A/N: Sorry that this took so long to update. Next chapter is where everything really starts to get going. Please review!**


	8. A Punch in the Face

CHAPTER 8: A PUNCH IN THE FACE

 **A/N: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update! I'm really trying, but I just have a lot going on right now. I want to get to at least chapter 10 by September 8th (when school begins for me), and I probably won't be able to post new chapters as often then. Some of my classes are going to be really stressful and I'll have to spend most of my free time studying. But I'm trying please stick with me I'm so sorry!**

 **This chapter is when things begin to get rough for little Hic.**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks**

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 **Astrid's POV**

 _Why did he pass out?_ He looked so pale and weak right before he did... I hoped he was okay.

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 **Hiccup's POV**

The next two weeks passed rather unevently. Astrid and I had four more tutoring appointments (dates, sort of, too?) and we spent most of the time not even talking about math. I honestly didn't even know why she was still coming for "tutoring", she understood everything just fine. We mostly talked about school, the teachers, the people, and sometimes we talked about each other, although I guarded myself, still anxious to believe she could be interested in my life.

I went down to lunch with her most days (occasionally I went to library instead when she had a volleyball team meeting at that time, sometimes Fishlegs would join me), and she, Ruffnut, Fish and I sat at a table together. Sometimes I ate a bit of the school's food, but threw about half of it each time. School food was gross and disgusting. I still enjoyed it, though, being in the lunchroom with those people, and even laughed at Ruff's coy passes and Fish's awkward return flirting.

But, then I had to go home and face the empty house. Toothless could sense I was unhappy, but even his nuzzles and snuggles didn't cheer me up. My dad usually got home late, and when we Skyped my mom, we pretended like nothing was wrong.

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I was walking to my locker during the free lunch period before fifth hour on Wednesday, the first of October, to get my graphing calculator for Astrid to use (we were in the library, studying) when I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey, Fainting Beauty!" I stopped in my tracks and turned to meet Snotlout. Behind him was most of the Varsity football team and some of the JV. I had been half-expecting this ever since I saw the sheet on the office window that morning that showed who had gotten onto the teams. Snotlout, Tuffnut and this other guy who I didn't know were the only sophomores who had gotten onto Varsity. I hadn't even made it JV, obviously.

"Hello, Snotlout," I said coldly.

He didn't even wait to start teasing. "Just, wondering, cuz, how much are you paying Astrid to go out with you? You could get her in trouble y'know, prostitution is illegal."

My sarcastic-asshole side of me took over. "I'm sure you know all about prostitution, thanks to your new girlfriend, wouldn't you?"

An angry look came over Snotlout's face, but that was nothing compared to the expression on the red-headed senior that stepped out from behind him. "What the hell did you just say about my sister?!" he snarled. _Oh shit._ I didn't know that Heather and Dagur Collins were related!

I didn't even have time to duck before his fist collided with the side of my face and I fell back into the row of lockers. I looked up, cradling my cheekbone. There was a crowd around us now. I stood up, and the ginger-haired goliath aimed another hit at me, which I narrowly avoided. I figured that I should probably fight back, even though all of my instincts were screaming at me to get the fuck out of there. I tried to swing my arm at him, but he grabbed it in one massive hand and punched me in the gut with the other, knocking the wind out of me.

I sank down to the ground, and looked up. The football players were all shouting stuff like _get him!_ and _fight! fight!_ , but Snotlout stood a little ways to the side, silent, looking somewhat... conflicted? You see, Snotlout might have been a giant dickhead, but he never actually physically hurt me. I didn't have time to think about it before Dagur performed a well-placed kick to my balls, sending me crashing sideways onto the ground, one hand still holding my face, the other on my groin, hoping to protect it from further harm. I yelped when he stomped on my leg, but couldn't even make a sound when he kicked out at my ribcage, leaving me breathless. After another blow, he stopped, and I opened my eyes to see why.

"LEAVE. HIM. ALONE!" Astrid shrieked. She was standing in between me and Dagur, her hands balled into fists at her sides. A second later, two teachers pushed their way through the mob, one (Mr. Darren?) went to Dagur and dragged him off to probably the office, while sixty-seven year-old Ms. Pierson tried to bend down over me. I sat up and leaned back on the lockers, breathing hard, my vision slightly hazy. Astrid was on her knees next to me.

"Dear, could you take him to the nurse? I need to deal with all these football boys," Ms. Pierson said in her shaky old lady voice. Astrid nodded and hoisted me up, putting my right arm over her shoulders and walking me out of the disbanding crowd.

"Astrid," I wheezed, "I'm fine, really, I don't have to-"

"Shut up, Hiccup," she said firmly as we got closer to the nurse's office. "I should've gone with you to your locker!" She scolded herself fiercely.

"I don't need you to protect me."

She looked to her left and glared at me. I shoved her arm off of my shoulders, but when it fell down to my side she took my hand in her's, which effectively silenced me.

"What did you say to Dagur to get him to do this?" I tried to ignore the warm feeling of her fingers entwined with mine.

"Um, I might have not known that Heather was his sister and then I might have accidentally said she looked like a prostitute."

"That's a great and true insult, but don't go saying it in front of the whole football team." We reached the door marked NURSE and Astrid knocked softly. She put her free hand on my forearm, so it didn't really look like we were holding hands. The door opened and we were greeted by the friendly smile of a thin, brown-haired woman in her late-thirties wearing plum-colored scrubs and an open black cardigan. She frowned when she saw me.

"Fight?" She asked immediately. Astrid nodded and the nurse (Ms. Harper) pursed her lips and opened the door wider. "Take a seat on cot." The office was small. It had one window, a desk with a rolling stool, two chairs, storage cabinets, and a padded table/cot thingy, which Astrid lead me over to and sat me down on. She took a seat next to me and rubbed my bicep comfortingly. Ms. Harper rolled the stool over to us and sat down upon it.

"Where did you get hit?" She asked, taking my wrist in her hand and frowning as she felt my pulse. I learned later that it was fast and irregular for another reason, but she must have thought at the moment that it was because of adrenaline from the beating.

"My face, stomach, uh, right leg, and chest," I said, not mentioning the kick to the nuts. She nodded, noticing how I had one arm clutching my ribs.

"Okay, I'm just going to ask you a few questions to see if you have any signs of a concussion. What's your name?"

"Hiccup Haddock." The nurse looked to Astrid to make sure that was correct, and the blonde nodded.

"What's the date?"

"September 18, 2014."

"Where are you?"

"The nurse's office of Berk High School, located in Berk, New York." I thought I should probably go overboard on the description to prove I wasn't concussed.

"Alright, I think your head is fine, but tell me if you feel any dizziness or nausea, okay?"

Astrid was silent as the nurse checked my over. First, she felt my cheek and eye with careful fingers, and I was shocked when she drew back her hands and they sported a small amount of blood. Dagur's thumbnail must've scratched my skin when he punched me.

"You have a bleeding cut, hold on a sec." She stood up and walked over to the cabinets. After rummaging through one of them for a moment, she closed the door with a soft click and came back with a Band-Aid and small bottle of antibacterial cream in her hand. She set them down on the cot, then went off to the metal sink and wet a cloth. She sat back down on the stool and dabbed at the blood with the damp fabric.

"I'll get you some ice in a minute, you've got a good-sized shiner forming," she informed me as she squirted a drop of the antibacterial cream on her index finger. _Perfect_ , I muttered to myself. I flinched slightly when the ointment made contact with my face, and I suddenly felt Astrid's hand on my lower back. I wondered what that meant as the nurse placed the bandage on my face. Why was she staying with me? The bell was going to be ringing any moment, but she seemed to not care about being late.

"Okay, do you have any pain in your leg?" She asked when she finished with my face.

"Um, no, I think I'll just have a bruise." She nodded.

"You're still holding your ribs, though," she noted.

"Yeah, they, uh, they still really hurt." _Oh God, I hope she doesn't want to look at my chest, because then she'll see my ribs and then..._

"Can I take a look at your chest to check if you have any fractured ribs?" I had to say yes because I really didn't want to sound suspicious.

"Sure."

"Alright, just lay down on your back." Astrid scootched down to the corner of the table to give me room. I lied down awkwardly, not sure what to do with my arms, ultimately deciding to just rest them parallel to my body. I felt so... exposed to the two females above me, and I gulped louder than I meant to. Astrid, sitting right near my head, seemed to sense my discomfort and ran her fingers through my hair in a motherly fashion.

My heart fluttered wildly in my chest when Ms. Harper gently pulled the hem of my sweater up to my shoulders and I heard Astrid gasp.

I squeezed my eyes closed, hoping that I simply had massive bruises and that neither of them noticed that my ribs looked like mountain ridges. I didn't even know the severity of situation at that time, but I knew that having a chest that you could probably grate cheese on wasn't normal.

"Astrid," the nurse said softly, "Could you please go next door to the office and get a bag of ice for Hiccup?" _Please let it be bruises, please let it be bruises._

I felt the cushioned surface pop back up when Astrid stood up and left the room. I kept my eyes shut. The next thing I felt were gentle fingers carefully pressing on my ribs.

"Tell me if you feel a lot of pain," she said quietly. I didn't, so she stopped and pulled my shirt back down over my stomach. "You can sit up now."

I opened my eyes nervously and pushed myself up, swinging my legs back over the side of cot, avoiding eye contact and staring at the wheels of the stool and her clogs as I swung my legs back and forth. The bell for fifth hour rang.

"Hiccup-" Before she could start talking, though, the door opened and I saw Astird's navy blue Tom's walking across the floor.

"Astrid, you can go now, you need to get to class."

"But-" Astrid didn't finish her sentence, so I figured the nurse gave her a look and she left the room, the door closing with a loud _clack_.

Ms. Harper sighed, and I raised my head slightly, looking up at her anxiously through my feathery bangs.

"Hiccup," she began softly, "Do you have any medical conditions the school doesn't know about?" She saw. She saw my chest and stomach and thought I had some sort of illness that made me resemble a skeleton underneath my clothing.

"N- no," I stuttered quietly.

"Could you please stand up, Hiccup?" I nodded and did as she said. She stood up with me and I straightened my neck, looking her in the eyes nervously. Her expression was worried. "Would you just come over here and stand on the scale for a moment." It wasn't a question. She walked over to a beat-up digital scale. _Oh God_. I hadn't been weighed, or weighed myself, for... maybe over a year? We didn't own a scale at home.

I stared down at the small white machine.

"Just slip off your shoes and step on." I slipped off my shoes.

The nurse touched my arm gently, then moved her hand forward to give me a tiny push.

I stepped onto the scale and stared as the screen loaded.

 _91 lbs_

"You can step off, now," came the quiet anxious voice on my left. "Hiccup, how tall are you?"

I swallowed. "Um, I think, like, five foot three, maybe?"

She shook her head. "You can't be. I'm five foot seven, and you're my height. And, even if you were five foot three... ninety-one pounds still wouldn't be healthy."

I wasn't aware of it, but I started to hyperventilate. "I- but, no... I've always been- been really small... it's- it's nothing! Really! I- I..." The nurse put her arm around me and guided me over to the cot as I spluttered. She pushed down on my shoulders and I fell onto the cushion when my knees buckled. I was still breathing quickly and shallowly as I stared at the floor, not really seeing it, and as Ms. Harper stroked my forearm comfortingly.

I mean, I wasn't stupid, I knew ninety-one pounds wasn't good for anyone over, like, twelve to weigh, but so many excuses were running through my brain. I was trying to say them all at once, which wasn't exactly working, and I just wheezed as I tried to simultaneously breath and talk.

The nurse murmured soothing words as she kept her fingers to my pulse. "Breath, Hiccup, breath," she said, "In and out. With me, okay?"

I nodded. She rubbed my shoulders. "Alright, breath in..." I inhaled, "And breath out..." I exhaled, "In... out... in... out..."

We did that for a couple minutes, just breathing until I calmed down. When she seemed satisfied that I was breathing normally, she stood up from next to me and sat on the rolling stool. I wrung my hands nervously and stared at the floor.

"Hiccup?"

"Yes?" I mumbled.

"Hiccup, look at me." I raised my head. "You're very thin, I can see your ribs and hipbones, and your weight is quite low." When I didn't say anything, she continued. "I'm going to call your parents, and I think you should go home for the rest of day." I looked up (fully) in fear. _She's going to call my dad?_ "Here's your ice." I took the cold bag and held it to my face as she looked through her computer for my parents numbers.

"Um..." I said, and she looked up from the screen at me. _I might be able to get out of this._ "My mom is in China, so..."

She nodded. "Okay, thank you for telling me."

"Wait, but... my dad is at work and he's busy and..."

"I'm going to call him, Hiccup, and we'll see what he says, alright?" I looked back to the floor and shifted the ice around on my face. I glanced back up when I heard her dialing.

"Hello, Mr. Haddock? ... I'm Jean Harper, the nurse at Berk High School ... He got in a fight ... He's *pause* fine, but he should go home for the day, and I would also like to speak to you and your son together ... Okay, see you then, thank you." She put down the phone.

"I just talked to your dad," _No, really?_ I thought sarcastically in my head, but in reality I was freaked out as hell, "He said he's going to come straight from work and he'll be here in about thirty minutes."

"Okay," I said quietly.

"While we wait, can I ask you a question?" She came around from behind the desk and sat back down on the stool.

"Um, sure," I replied hesitantly.

"What reasons can you think of that would explain why you weigh so little?" _This can't be happening._ I knew exactly why I was underweight. Or, at least I thought I did. At that moment in time, I truly believed that I was ninety-one pounds because I had always been skinny and small. People just wouldn't understand that, so I made up lies. I think that, somewhere, in the back of mind, I may have known that it was something more, but I blocked it out. I denied it. That something in the back of my mind was controlled and ignored by another something. It was a while before I finally realized and came to admit what the controlling something was.

I shrugged. "I dunno, I've always been really small like this." My default excuse.

She sighed and leaned backwards a little. "Hiccup, I have been a high school nurse for thirteen years. I can sense that there's something more going on here, but I have enough experience to know that I am not the person to ask you about it. I just want you to know that if you have anything to tell anyone, or if you need to talk to someone, I'm sworn to secrecy. You can tell me anything."

"'kay," I mumbled awkwardly, readjusting the ice again, hoping that maybe it would be able to hide me from what was happening.

"You can just play a game on your phone or something while we wait for your dad. I won't ask you anything more, but when he comes, I'd like to talk to both of you." I nodded to say okay. "But you can tell me anything if you want to," she reminded me.

She stood up and walked back to behind her desk and did some paperwork and emails or something. I pulled out my phone with the hand not holding the ice and tried to contain my surprise when I saw that I had seven texts. One was from Fishlegs, saying that he'd heard what happened and hoped I was okay, the rest were from Astrid.

(11:58) _r_ _you ok?_

(11:59) _hiccup are u ok?_

(12:02) _i'm secretly texting in science, u have to reply_

(12:05) _i saw your chest. i saw how skinny you are and i want u to kno that u can trust me and u dont have to tell me if u dont want to i just want u to kno that i really hope ur ok_

(12:07) _i'm going to be waiting outside ur locker after this hour_

(12:08) _the teacher saw me i have to give him my phone hiccup i really care about u_

 _Does she mean that?_ I was baffled. Why did she _care_ about me? She was Astrid Hofferson. Even after her whole "You Have Substance" speech on Monday, I had still half-thought the whole time that she was using me as an excuse to not hang around with her regular crowd and a way to avoid her social problems. And I was enjoying it, but I sure as hell didn't think that she would say that she _cared_ about me.

After trying (and failing) to comprehend the meaning of what I had decided to entitle "The Text", I opened up Tumblr. I didn't like all the comedy-themed blogs, so I mostly followed ones that posted photography and quotes and coffee pics and other types of hipster shit. I reposted a few things, checked my follower count (forty-seven), then played various games for the last few minutes until my dad came. I was extremely nervous. My eyes were on the phone, but my mind was focused on what was about to come.

At around 12:30, I put my phone away and resigned myself to twidling my thumbs and thinking in fear. At around 12:45, there was a light, almost careful knock on the door. I didn't lift my head from it's slouched position, but I did lift my eyes and see, through my auburn bangs, my father's worried face peeing in through the glass window. I quickly looked back down to my lap as the nurse stood up and waved him in. I still didn't look up when he came into the room, but I could sense his concern.

"Hello, Mr. Haddock?"

"Yes, hello, you're the woman I spoke to on the phone?"

When I heard my father's anxious voice I wanted to sob. I had let him down. I had lost the fight with Dagur and I should have been able to defend myself and it was all my fault that he had to leave work to come to the school...

"Hiccup?"

I raised my head to meet my father's eyes. They widened when they saw my bruised face.

I tried to give a small, joking smile. "Hey, dad," I said, my voice high, falsely cheery.

Before I knew it, he was kneeling in front of me, one hand cradling my black and blue cheek, the other resting on my shoulder. I slowly, uneasily met his concern-filled, green-grey eyes.

"Oh, Hiccup, are you okay?" His bushy red eyebrows were scrunched together and upwards with worry, which made me want to cringe inwardly in shame.

"I'm fine, Dad, I'm fine," I assured him quickly. I realized, just then, that, even though I had been in fights before, my father had never found out about any of them, so this was a new experience for him.

I hadn't noticed that Ms. Harper had been standing silently in the corner, watching us, until she cleared her throat and began to speak. "Eh-em. Um, Mr. Haddock," she said, and my dad stood up, keeping one massive hand on my shoulder, "May I speak to you, with your son, for a minute before you two leave?"

"Yes, yes of course." He sat down next to me on the cot and put his right arm around me, hugging me to his side, and Ms. Harper took a seat, yet again, on the stool in front of us.

 _Oh no no no no no._

"I received an email from the principal that told me that Dagur Collins was the boy who beat you. Correct, Hiccup?" I nodded. "Well, some of the blows were delivered to Hiccup's chest," she told my father, carefully, "As I was examining his ribs," _Oh God here it comes_ , "I noticed that he is... extremely thin." I sensed a change in my dad's demeanor. His one-armed hug around me tightened slightly (not violently or threateningly, though), and he kept his gaze fixed on the nurse as he listened intently. "I had him step on the scale, and... I was very surprised." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Mr. Haddock, your son is only ninety-one pounds."

Silence followed her morbid-sounding statement and it seemed to last for an eternity. My father put the hand not around my shoulders up to his mouth in shock.

"Obviously," she added, "This is much, much lower than what is healthy for his age and height."

"Oh, son," my dad whispered.

I couldn't take it. I squirmed away from my dad's arm (which barely worked) and put my hands out in front of me in a defensive manner, the bag of ice falling in between my stick-figure legs and onto the floor.

"No! Really, Ms. Harper, I've always just been super small for my age and really skinny naturally! Right, dad?" I turned to the man next to me in hope that he would agree and we'd be able to just go home and forget everything that had happened that day.

I don't know how to describe my father's face. It was sort of a mixture of surprise, horror, worry, confusion, something that looked a little like pity, and something else that I couldn't decipher. He turned his head and looked down at me.

"Well, Hiccup," he said, "You... you have always been a bit less developed than other kids, but..." _why does there have to be a 'but'?_ "Your mother and I always assumed that you would be able to grow out of it by now."

"I-"

Ms. Harper cut me off, "Have you noticed anything strange about your son's behavior?"

My dad looked down and rubbed his forehead. "His... I don't know. I don't think so."

"Does he have any illnesses?" I hated it when adults spoke about you as though you weren't there.

My dad shook his head. "No."

"When was his last doctor's appointment, annual check-up, etcetera?"

"It was... Well, he has a check-up every year... so, I think... Oh, God," his face blanched, "We were going to have one last fall, but I don't think we made it. We..."

I don't know what made me do it, but some reason I spoke quietly, "We had to pick up mom from the airport."

"Yes, um, my- my wife travels for her work and it's very- very stressful. So... it's been two years since his last visit."

"Hmm," said the nurse, "I think it might be wise for Hiccup to see his regular GP, soon."

"Of course. I'll make an appointment in the car."

I felt like I should start screaming. I felt like I should protest and deny and try to stop what was happening, but I just sat there in silence, staring at the floor.

My dad thanked Ms. Harper, picked up the ice off of the floor, handed it back to me, then told me we just had to sign me out from the office.

I put the ice back to my swollen check. "What about my stuff?" I asked, remembering my fallen backpack beside my locker.

"They have it in the office," he said, one hand on my lower back as we exited the room. We reached the office, right next door, and my dad told me to just wait outside. He came out a minute later, my old, dark-green backpack over one shoulder. I reached out to take it, but he moved away.

"I've got it, son," he said gently. I sighed in annoyance.

As we began to drive away from the high school, my dad pulled out his phone and began to scroll through his contacts.

"No texting and driving," I mumbled, leaning up against the window and staring at the autumn leaves.

"I'm not texting and driving," he replied.

"You're reading something off of your phone, that counts." I heard him exhale deeply.

"I'm calling your doctor and making an appointment." I squirmed uncomfortably.

"You don't have to, y'know."

"Yes, I do. I love you, Hiccup." I didn't know what to say to that statement. I mean, I knew my dad loved me, but he rarely said it.

He clicked something on his phone then raised it to his ear. "Hello, my name is Stoick Haddock, my son Hiccup is a patient of Dr. Brown. I was wondering if I could make an appointment ... hmm, so he's no longer there? ... Alright, we'll go with him ... As soon as possible ... Yes, that'd be great ... Hiccup Haddock, H-A-D-D-O-C-K ... Thank you very much, goodbye." He hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.

He glanced over to me. "So, uh, Dr. Brown isn't there anymore, so you'll meet with this other guy, Dr. Harris."

"When?" I asked quietly, not looking away from the window.

"Tomorrow at three o'clock."

"Fine," I said shortly.

We drove for a couple more minutes in silence, until my dad took out his phone again.

He held down the iPhone's home button. "Call Valka," he told Siri.

I leapt away from the window across the seat and pressed the red end button before the call even started. The car swerved slightly, but my dad kept the vehicle on the road.

"Hiccup!" He scolded, startled. "We could have crashed!"

"Please, dad, please don't tell mom!" I pleaded desperately.

He relaxed in understanding. "Hiccup, she'd want to know about this."

"I don't want to worry her, though."

He sighed. "Hiccup, she's your mother."

"Please!"

My father stared at the road. A few second later, "Okay, I'll make you a deal. I won't call her, or text her, or email her. Tonight, when we Skype her, we won't say anything." I nodded. _Good so far._ "But tommorrow, after your doctor's appointment, I'm going to tell her everything."

"Fine," I went back to staring out the window and imagining all the things my mother would say that would fill me with shame and guilt.

0000000000

 **Stoick's POV**

I promised her that I would take care of him.

0000000000

 **A/N: That one was over 5,000 words! The next chapter, there's going to be a big Astrid POV and lots of Ruffnut. Please review and tell me what you think! (Remember, I don't mind criticism, but please be civil and polite)**


	9. I've Had a Bad Day

CHAPTER 9: I'VE HAD A BAD DAY

 **A/N: GAH! I need to just buckle down and write this thing! This isn't as long as the last chapter, but I wanted to update as soon as possible. And yes, this is a bit of a filler chapter, but things will pick up in the next one.**

 **How to Train Your Dragon belongs to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks**

0000000000

 **Hiccup's POV**

My dad and I pulled into the garage at 1:15. I jumped out of the car and went inside before he could say anything to me. Toothless had been waiting for me, but before he could tackle me I grabbed his collar and attempted to drag him towards the living room. It didn't work, I was so much weaker than him, so I kept my hand outstretched, forcing him to walk alongside me without jumping me. I realized I was chilly, and took my hoodie off the couch and put it on over my sweater. Just as I sat down and clicked on the television, my dad came inside.

He walked into the room, but I didn't look at him, so I couldn't see his expression. We had a Wii that we had our Netflix on, and I opened it up and found an episode of Orange is the New Black that I hadn't seen in a while. My dad was still standing behind me.

"I'm going to go call the doctor's office, then make us some lunch, okay?" he said. I turned my head to watch him walk into the kitchen.

"Why?" I asked.

"Um, I'm just going to tell them that you... how you got in a fight, so they won't be surprised by your black eye," he said carefully.

"And what else?" I said, not fooled by his cover.

"Well, I am going to tell them about your weight," he said more clearly.

I sighed and turned back to the TV, leaning up against Toothless and starting an episode. I tried not to focus on my father and to listen to the show, but I heard a few words such as 'bruised', 'fight', 'school', 'thin', 'ninety-one pounds', and 'worried'.

With the hand not rubbing Toothless, I slowly traced the valleys in between my ribs through my clothes. _Am I really that skinny?_

Suddenly, a panicky thought popped into my mind. _What does Astrid think? She saw my chest and stomach, and now she probably sees me as some kind of freak. Her text about "caring" was just a bunch of bullshit._

 _She just doesn't understand that I've always been this way. Nobody does._

"I'm making us grilled cheese sandwiches!" called my dad from the kitchen.

"Okay," I said.

Ten minutes later, and there was the rich scent of food wafting over me from behind. It simultaneously smelled amazing and made me want to puke.

"Lunch is ready!"

I paused the episode, slid out from under Toothless, and reluctantly stood up. My dad was setting the small table that separated the kitchen and living room. I took a seat and stared at the food in front of me: grilled cheese sandwich on white bread, potato chips, and a glass of chocolate milk. When I was little, around eight or ten and younger, if I'd had a bad day, my mom would make me the exact same thing. I was shocked that my dad remembered it.

"Everything okay?"

My head flew up and I gaped at my dad, trying to figure out what to say. "Ye- yeah, I was just... Mom used to make this for me."

He nodded. "I thought, y'know, after you'd had a rough time..." He tried for a smile, which I returned weakly.

I reached for a chip and brought it up to my mouth. I took a small nibble, then an actual bite when I realized my dad was watching me. I stuffed the whole chip in my mouth. I took one half of the sandwich in both hands and tore a large part off with my teeth and chewed it around in my mouth. It tasted so good, and when I swallowed it made my stomach feel warm and comfortable. The sensation spread throughout my body, and part of my mind told me to just eat the damn thing. But another part of me said that I shouldn't. _Come to think of it, it does taste kind of weird._ When I set the sandwich down and gently dabbed at my lips with my napkin, my dad spoke.

"Hiccup..." he began carefully, "Son," he cleared his throat, "Do you... do you have a problem with eating? Is that why you're underweight?"

All of the breath was sucked out of my chest and I looked at him like he was crazy. "No! Of course not! Why— why would you think that?" I gasped defensively.

"I'm sorry, it's just, I was just noticing how you were—"

"Can we just eat and not talk?" I snapped.

"Sure, as long as you eat," he snapped back. My dad hated it when I got mouthy. But his outburst was actually followed by a small look of guilt.

We sat there in silence for the next twenty minutes until I only had three chips and a few chunks of crust left on my plate. I stood up from the table, dropped my napkin on top of my remaining food, and carried my plate and glass into the kitchen. As I placed the dishes in the dishwasher I heard the sound of a chair moving across hardwood floor, meaning my dad was getting up, too. When I started to grab my backpack and head toward my room, his hand on my shoulder stopped me.

I straightened up and looked at him. "What?" I said with a little snark, still a bit ticked off, although my remark was half-hearted.

"Hiccup," he said. The concern in his voice made my irritation soften. "I..." He pulled me into a tight hug. "I love you so much, I hope you know that."

 _I care about you._

 _I love you._

 _Ugh, what is it, National Feelings Day?_

I hugged him back.

000000000

 **Astrid's POV**

I stared at the car floor and thought about the day. The twins and I left Berk High at 4:30 (Tuff had had a football meeting and Ruff and I tried out for volleyball) and we were going to their house. It had been hard to focus during the tryouts with the events of lunch hour on my mind. I'd always hated Heather's brother, but I didn't think I could hate him _that_ much. He was kind of crazy, they called him "The Berserker" on the football team, and he was extremely overprotective of his younger sister, which made for a bad combination. Thank god he hadn't been at the Thorston's birthday party, or he would've murdered me and fed my body to wolves if he saw me slap Heather himself and hadn't heard about it when it was too late to do anything irrational.

Hiccup didn't deserve any of that. He had _never_ deserved any of that. I mean, God, everyone had been total jerks to him his whole life. What had he ever done to anyone?

"ASTRID ARE YOU EVEN FUCKING LISTENING TO ME?!"

I jolted backwards when Ruffnut's voice screamed at me from the front and I hit my head on the seat. I looked up to see her turned around from the steering wheel, glaring at me.

"HOLY SHIT, SIS, WATCH THE ROAD!" Tuffnut leaned over from the passenger side and grabbed the wheel, directing the car and saving us from swerving off of the pavement while Ruff kept her foot on the gas. A car in the lane next to us honked and the driver flipped us off. I held onto the seat in front of me for dear life.

"OH MY GOD, RUFF!" I screeched.

"What? You weren't listening to me," she said calmly, still turned around.

"TAKE THE FUCKING WHEEL!"

Ruffnut sighed, then twisted back and elbowed Tuff (who had been steering) out of the way.

I sighed in relief. I've done a lot of crazy stuff with the twins, and had some fun, but the one thing I can't stand is their insane driving methods.

"Okay," *another sigh*, "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Are you gonna listen this time?" Ruff chirped shortly.

"Calm down, Ruff, it's just... been kind of stressful day."

After the nurse had kicked me out of her office, I had considered just standing outside the door and waiting, but ultimately decided to just go to class before I was late. I had texted Hiccup over and over, but he hadn't replied to me. Then, the teacher had seen me texting and had taken my phone away, telling me that I could come get it at the end of the day. The moment the minute hand reached three o'clock and the bell rang, I rushed down to the science classroom and took back my cell. Hiccup still hadn't replied.

I was worried. When the nurse pulled up his shirt, I had been... shocked. I mean, I knew he was skinny, but I didn't know he was _that_ skinny. Skinny actually didn't even begin to cover what was beneath his clothing. In ninth grade history, we spent an entire semester studying World War II and the Holocaust. Hiccup looked like one of the starved prisoners in the pictures and videos we viewed in class. I flashed back to the Wednesday of the previous week, when Heather had said that Hiccup looked like he was anorexic. _Could he be...? No, of course not._

Ruffnut's lips pursed and she glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "I know, sorry. That's actually what I was talking about. I heard that Hiccup insulted Heather, then Dagur freaked out."

"Yeah."

Ruff whistled. "That guy may insane, but he is one hot-"

" _Anyway_ ," I said, keeping her from sinking into a (nother) glazed-eyed rant of the attractiveness of Dagur Collins.

"What? I have a healthy sexuality and I do not feel the need to hide it."

"Isn't that what you told Michael Aaronson?" Tuff's voice came out from the passenger's side, followed by an _ow!_ when his twin's fist collided with his well-developed bicep.

"Speaking of romantic interests, what are you doing with Fishlegs Ingerman?" Ruff had watched him closely at the football tryouts and had been flirting with him ever since.

"Hmmm... not sure yet. I thought I'd let him dangle for a bit before I reel him in." Tuffnut plugged his ears with his fingers.

"So you _do_ like him?"

"Well, he's different. I mean, yeah, he is on the football team now, but he's not a meathead. He actually understands what I'm saying when I talk about... well, y'know." I was really the only one who knew that Ruff's dream was to be a marine biologist. Whenever anyone asked why she was taking AP Biology, she brushed it off and changed the topic. Even though she seemed like a wild party-girl (which she was, anyway), once you got to know her, she was pretty smart and had her own unique brand of wit. Unfortunately, her intelligence didn't stretch as far as choosing a boyfriend. She had already had six, each one slimier than the previous.

I leaned forward, resting an arm on each of the front seats. Tuff still had his ears covered, going _la la la la la_. "Ruff, you are my best friend. If this guy is smart, funny, makes you happy, and won't break your heart, go for it. Just don't go breaking his." The tall blonde was silent and stared straight ahead. I tapped Tuffnut ont the shoulder to tell him we were done. He really was an idiot, but deep down loved his sister and was considerate enough to not mess with her personal business.

"Tuffnut, you're Snotass's best friend. What's his deal right now?" When I had stood between Dagur and Hiccup, I had noticed that he had been off to the side, and it had been bugging me.

"Don't call him that, Astrid." He actually sounded serious. "This stays between the three of us," he pointed warningly at me and his sister, "Snotlout came to our party with Heather because he really likes you, Astrid, and was trying to make you jealous."

I scoffed. "Seriously? He stares at my ass, _points out my bra strap when it's showing,_ and calls me 'babe'."

"Well, yeah, but those are kind of like, I don't know, covers or something. And then you show up with his shrimp cousin, who you hang around with all the time now. How d'you think that makes him feel?"

Ruff came out of her silence bubble and stared at her brother incredulously. "What the hell have you been smoking?"

"I'm pretty sure Snotlout doesn't _feel,_ Tuff," I snorted.

"Mmmkay," he said obnoxiously, and we were quiet as Ruffnut swerved onto the dirt road leading to their house. My mind stuck on the word _shrimp._

Ruffnut pulled into the old two-car garage. There was a silver Jeep inside, meaning that Erika and Adam Thorston were home. They were the kind of parents that wanted you to call them by their first names and believed that their children should get all their wildness out of their system when they were young, as long as they used a condom and had a designated driver for drunken times.

Tuffnut went down to his "bedroom" (pull-out couch, Xbox, an old TV, and an indoor coop to keep his pet chicken) in the basement, while Ruff and I went up to her room, saying a quick greeting to Erika and giving their two Labradors, Barf and Belch, a quick rub as we went through the living room. The second floor of the Thorston's home had only a bathroom and two bedrooms. Their parents slept in one, but when Ruff and Tuff were eight the family renovated the attic and the twins moved up there. When they turned twelve, Tuff moved three floors down to the basement.

I had been to their house so many times that I was barely a guest when I went over there, I was more like a member of the family. I pulled down on the trapdoor string and the ladder unfolded. We climbed into the small, slanted-ceilinged, two-windowed room. I walked straight over to the creaky bunkbed, plopped face-down on Ruff's bright green comforter, and moaned into the pillow while she opened the shade on the skylight.

I turned my head and watched as she sat down on the old, fraying blue armchair.

She frowned at me. "What's wrong?"

I shrugged.

She squinted at me. "Is this about Hiccup?"

I rolled over and sat up, leaning back against the wall to face Ruffnut. I drew up my knees and hugged them to my chest.

"I texted him about a billion times and he hasn't responded," I said, admitting the worry that had been torturing me all day.

"Wait, is he okay? Like, did he have to go to the hospital or something?"

"I don't know! The nurse kicked me out of her office." I banged my head against the wall behind me.

Ruffnut criss-crossed her legs and frowned. "Was he really hurt?"

"Um, I don't think so..." I was trying to decide if I should tell her about his ribs. I changed the topic quickly, "So, anyway, how _do_ you feel about Fishlegs?"

"We were talking about you and Hiccup."

"And now we're talking about you and Fishlegs."

My parents were very nosy about my private life, always asking me _exactly_ how my day went and if I had a crush on someone and when my period last was and if I liked my breakfast cereal and BLAH BLAH BLAH. Over the course of my existing lifetime I became quite good at spinning conversations away from myself, and Ruff was pretty easy to spin. However, I really did want to tell someone about Hiccup, I just didn't know if I should.

Ruffnut sighed. "What do you wanna know?"

"I wanna know how you feel about him."

She slouched down in the chair. "I dunno, he's nice and understanding and stuff, I guess... but he's not really my type."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because dating _your type_ has done wonders for you," I said, remembering the phone call I answered a couple months before. Ruff, sobbing on the other end, telling me about her monstrously nightmare-ish break-up with (the previously mentioned) Michael Aaronson and begging me to come over to watch old black-and-white movies with her while she found relief in the form of Hershey's chocolate bars.

She scowled. "You're one to talk."

"Ugh," I leaned my head back and stared at the bottom of the top bunk, "I'm just saying that you should try someone who makes you emotionally happy instead of physically happy."

Ruffnut snorted. "Okay, Oprah."

We stopped talking for a minute until I blurted out what had suddenly sprung into my mind. "I'm glad Heather's not here."

Ruff looked back up at me. "I know, me too. I mean, she was our friend, but..."

"A total ass-kissing bitch," I chimed in, finishing her sentence.

She nodded. "Ugh, how did we not realize it sooner?"

I shook my head. "No idea."

Abruptly, Ruff stood up and walked over to the trapdoor, pulling up the ladder and locking it. She then took a blue-handled flathead screwdriver out of a dresser drawer and began to pry up the loose floorboard that I knew contained a few bottles of red underneath.

"Sure you wanna drink right now?" I asked, somewhat surreptitiously.

She shot me a glare as she uncorked the wine and pulled up two plastic cups. "Yes, and so do you."

I puffed out my cheeks and breathed a deep sigh. I only ever drank when I came over to Ruff's house and had had a particularly rotten day. "Fine, but only this much." I held apart my thumb and index finger about an inch.

0000000000

 **Valka's POV**

I sat down at the desk in my apartment at nine in the morning (nine in the evening, New York time) after taking a shower, opened my laptop, then Skype, and began a call to home.

"Val!" greeted my husband. I smiled when he popped up on the screen.

"Hello, Stoick," I replied, then frowned. "Where's Hiccup?"

"He's over here," came a nasal voice from offscreen.

I cocked my head. "What's going on..." I said slowly.

"Well, Hiccup got in a fight at school..."

I gasped. "Is he okay? Hiccup, are you okay?"

Stoick held up a hand. "Yes, yes, we just thought we should give you a bit of a warning." He had a strange expression on his face.

He gestured somewhere to his right, and my son slowly slid into the frame. I gasped again. Hiccup's left eye and the area around it were bruised.

"Hey, mom," he smiled and waved at me uneasily.

"Oh, Hiccup, what happened to you?" Stoick put an arm around him, and I desperately wished I could do the same.

"It was just a fight, mom, it's nothing," he muttered.

I frowned. "Was this... football team announcements came out today, was it because of that?"

"Um, no..."

"Did you make the team?" I asked hopefully, then mentally scolded myself. "It's perfectly fine if you didn't, though."

He shook his head. I sighed. "That's o-kay," I said, emphasizing the O.

"I know."

Half an hour later, the call ended. All Hiccup would tell me is that a senior punched him, even though I tried to squeeze more information out of him multiple times. They described the beautiful autumn Berk was getting, and how much the leaves had changed in only the four days I had been gone. Stoick told me some funny work stories and they brought Toothless, Skullcrusher, and Cloudjumper in front of the computer.

Then, it was back to getting ready for work in my empty apartment.

0000000000

 **A/N: So, Hiccup's worried about the future, Astrid and Stoick are worried about Hiccup, Ruff doesn't know what's good for her, and Valka misses her family. I was going to have Hiccup's doctor's appointment be at the end of this chapter, but it was taking too long to write, so it'll be in the next one. Hope you enjoyed this! Please read and review :D**

 **Published: August 12, 2015**


	10. How Do You Feel?

_CHAPTER 10: HOW DO YOU FEEL?_

 **A/N: AAAHHHH! I'M SO SORRY! I was banned from electronics for a week, and I haven't been able to write. Also, sorry if I didn't get what happens in a teenage boy's physical correct. I looked up some stuff and tried to make it accurate. And, yes, the chapter title is quite shitty, I am very bad at naming things.**

0000000000

 **Hiccup's POV**

Something felt strange when I woke up the next day.

My alarm clock wasn't beeping.

The realization was like a bucket of ice water. I sat straight up in bed and leaned over to look at the time: _7:43._

My eyes widened and I threw off the tangle of blankets. School started in fifteen minutes. I didn't know how I would get there, but I still was hurriedly trying to get dressed. I pulled off my pajama shirt and was frantically searching through my dresser drawer for a warm sweater when I heard my bedroom doorknob turning. I spun toward the door in panic, no idea what to do.

It opened and my father poked his head in. His face immediately took on a look of shock. "DAD I'M GETTING DRESSED!" I shrieked and grabbed a blanket off of the end of the bed, holding it up to my chest to hide everything. My dad quickly stepped back and closed the door. _He won't believe that I'm just scrawny. He didn't bail me out yesterday with the nurse. He thinks I'm a freak, too._

I collapsed on the edge of the bed and caught my breath.

"Hiccup?" came the deep, accented voice from the hallway.

"I'm just... I'm getting dressed," I said and began to look through the drawer again.

"Okay," he said anxiously, "Um, tell me when you're done and it's... good for me to come in."

I pulled on a thick, brown sweater with a white stripe around the middle and a pair of jeans.

"Um, come in," I said hesitantly.

He walked in, followed by Toothless and Shullcrusher, who's leashes were trailing from their collars. He must have just taken them for a walk. I didn't meet his eyes and petted Toothless's head.

"Hiccup—"

"Dad I have to get to school," I said swiftly, cutting him off, "I missed my alarm, I'm sorry."

He came a little closer to me. "I know, I turned it off before it could wake you up." Before I could start talking again, he continued. "I already called the school and told them you won't make it today."

"Why?" I asked, hugging my arm to my side.

"Because of your appointment later."

"But that's at three."

"I know, I just want you to take a day off," he said, wringing his hands.

"Oh," I said, not knowing what to think. My dad still hadn't mentioned seeing my body, but I knew he would eventually bring it up.

He stepped out of the doorway. "Come on down, I'm making breakfast," he said, waving me forward.

I walked out of the room slowly, and followed him downstairs. I got a small head rush when we reached the bottom. My dad went into the kitchen and got out a carton of eggs, bread, and pack of bacon, while I sat down on the carpet in the living room and rubbed Toothless's belly.

After a few minutes, the almost sickly smell of food was beginning to fill the air. I stood up off the floor, Toothless standing with me. I walked into the kitchen and leaned sideways against the counter.

My dad turned around from the stove and scooped some scrambled eggs onto a plate. He frowned at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, shrugging.

He kept frowning and set down the pan on the stove. "I'm sorry, I should have made you sleep in more, you're probably really tired." He shifted awkwardly. I don't think I'd ever seen my father looking this uncomfortable.

The previous day, after a very slow dinner consisting of spaghetti (which I hated, but my dad made me eat anyway) and garlic bread (eww, bad breath), we had Skyped my mom. After that, I had said I was going to bed, but stayed up late reading and listening to music through earbuds. Eventually my dad came in about midnight and told me to turn out my light. The look on his face was so... indescribably worried that I did so without protesting, but still didn't fall asleep for another couple hours. I couldn't stop thinking about what was coming the next day.

I shrugged again. "'s fine."

"I can save your breakfast and warm it up later, if you want to... y'know, go back to bed for a little bit."

"Okay." I walked away and went upstairs, followed by Toothless, and didn't look back.

I closed my bedroom door and plopped down onto my bed, spent, even though I'd only climbed one flight of stairs. Okay, yeah, I should have known that it wasn't normal to become tired that easily, but it was just something I had gotten so used to over time. Toothless jumped onto my bed and crawled under the covers, snorting and rolling around against the sheets. I drew the blankets up to my chest and rubbed his thick furry flank with my feet, warming my cold toes. I buried my head in the pillow and stared at the wall.

I didn't know what my dad thought of everything. He had been pretty silent, the only time he had talked to me about... the stuff, was when he asked if I had trouble eating during lunch after we got home from the school. I hated it. He looked concerned, but I couldn't help but feel that I had disappointed him. That this was just another thing with me that he had to deal with. I especially didn't want to my mom to find out. Her shocked expression is even worse than my dad's disappointed one. It makes you feel like you've physically hurt her.

Toothless suddenly popped up from under the comforter, panting heavily. He cocked his head when he saw me and wiggled forward, staring at me with a seemingly critical eyes. He gave me a small kiss with his wet sandpaper tongue, testing to see my reaction. I smiled at him and sat up, rubbing his shoulders and scratching behind his ears. He stood up and lay down on top of me. With one hand, I kept petting him, and with the other I took my phone off of the nightstand. My smile disappeared. Astrid had texted me.

(8:02) _where are you?_

(8:04) _why aren't you at school?_

I sighed. _I should probably text her back._

H: _hi_

A: _where r you are you ok?_

H: _I stayed home today_

A: _why?_

H: _my dad made me, I have a doctors appointment later_

A: _are you ok? were you really hurt yesterday?_

H: _no, the nurse told my dad to take me_

A: _because you're really skinny?_

Panic fluttered through my body. _She saw, she saw me._

H: _I've always been like this and she freaked out. It's nothing_

A: _oh, ok. I hope you're alright. I gtg to class_

H: _bye_

A: _goodbye_

I sighed and twirled my phone around in my bony fingers. I knew that the next day (when I believed I would be going back to school) I would have to face Astrid, then face her more when she came over to my house after for tutoring.

I sent Fishlegs a short text saying I was absent and asking if he could get my assignments for me. He didn't reply, although that wasn't surprising. Fishlegs would rather gnaw off his own arm than risk being caught texting in class.

For the next couple hours, I just watched YouTube videos, Tumblred, and worked on a paper for History that was due in a week. At ten o'clock, I decided that I should probably go downstairs and face my dad, so I sighed and rolled off my bed from under the warm comfort of the bedsheets.

My dad didn't say anything when I came down, he just reheated the breakfast and watched me as I slowly ate it. When I set down my fork halfway through eating the food and stood up to throw the rest away, he coughed. I sat back down and finished.

I pushed my plate away from me and got back up. "Tell me when we're about to leave," I said, not looking at my father and walking toward the stairs.

"I'll tell you when lunch is ready," he said quietly.

0000000000

 _2:27 p.m._

My dad had to go into work for about an hour to do a few things, and he was going to be back at 2:45, then we would leave for the doctor. I locked my door, just to be extra safe, paranoia controlling me subconsciously, and opened up my computer. I realized a couple minutes before that I had no idea what I would say to the doctor if he didn't believe me when I told him I'd always been small and skinny.

After four failed tries, I found what I was looking for. I found it on a pro-anorexia site, but I ignored that little detail.

 _Tips to Trick the Doctor_

 _-wear heavy clothes_

 _-stuff rolls of coins in your pocket_

 _-drink as many full glasses of water as you can before your appointment_

 _-wear ankle weights if you can hide them well enough_

 _-put coins and weights in your bra_

Well, I couldn't do the bra thing, we didn't own ankle weights, and my sweater was pretty heavy already, but I could definitely do everything else.

0000000000

I shut the truck door and sat as far away from my dad as possible. We had barely spoken all day, and I hadn't met his eyes, so I couldn't read his expression or know what he was feeling. Not that his feelings were something I usually knew. That was one of the only things my dad and I had in common, we never shared our emotions with each other, we kept them bottled up inside until they spilled out. Mom was the only one who seemed to be able to get us to talk a little more openly.

I adjusted the rolls of quarters in my jeans (one in each pocket) and glanced at my dad. He noticed and glanced back.

"So," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "Your, uh, new doctor's name is Christopher Harris."

"Okay," I answered quietly.

"He– I spoke to him on the phone. I told him... a little bit about you. He seems nice." He was so obviously trying to have a conversation with me it was pitiful.

"Okay," I repeated.

We were quiet after that. I shifted uncomfortably when we began to drive through the downtown area my doctor's office was in. We pulled into a space in the parking lot of a one-story building that had a sign reading _Baruchel County Pediatric & Adolescent Clinic._

I swallowed and unclicked the door. My dad was already getting out of the car, so I did the same. We remained silent and stoical as we walked through the glass doors and into the waiting room. It had that ugly multicolored/gray carpet that every doctor's office seemed to have, and in the corner was a bunch of little kid play stuff. There were several children (all about three to six years old) over there, their parents reading magazines near them, there was a woman cradling a baby, two brothers sitting next to their mother, and a girl about my age waiting alone. I didn't recognize her, so she must have gone to a different school.

My dad and I went up to the reception desk. "Hi, how can I help you?" said a cheery, plump blonde nurse wearing flower-print pink scrubs.

"Hello, my son Hiccup Haddock has an appointment at three o'clock," said my dad politely.

"Okay..." mumbled the nurse, looking through the computer. She took some papers off of her desk, snapped them to a clipboard, and handed them to my father over the counter. "Alright, just fill out this form, give it back to me, and you'll be called back in a few minutes."

My dad thanked her and we sat down together in two of the uncomfortable chairs. I glanced over at the clipboard. It was just stuff like my name, birthdate, if I had any known medical conditions, and insurance things.

My dad stood up after a couple minutes and gave the papers to the receptionist nurse. When he sat back down, he twiddled his thumbs for a moment, then leaned in and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. He didn't, though, and sank back into his chair, rubbing his forehead.

 _I stress him out._

A door near the check in area opened and a nurse wearing lavender scrubs with lollipops on them stepped out. I tensed in my seat. "Macy Atkins?" she called out, and I relaxed when the girl who'd been waiting alone got up and went through the door.

A few minutes later, I tensed again. "Hiccup Haddock?"

I looked up and my dad stood. I got up too. The nurse smiled. Her scrubs were just plain blue.

We followed her through the door and into a maze-ish hallway. I kind of wanted to ask my dad to just stay in the waiting room, but I didn't want him to think I was being rude or that I didn't want him near me.

We stopped, and I recognized the height measurer and scale pushed against the wall.

"Okay, Hiccup, I just need you to take off your shoes and jacket."

 _Shit._ I had worn my heaviest jacket just for the weighing. But I couldn't make a scene and seem like a weirdo if I refused. I bent down and unlaced my Converse, slipped my socked feet out of them, then unzipped my jacket. When I took it off, my dad reached out and held it for me. I looked up at him and he tried to give me a small smile.

"Stand against the wall, here," the nurse directed me, and she moved the little piece onto my head. "You can step away now." She scribbled something onto her clipboard.

"How tall is he?" my dad spoke up.

"Five feet, six and a half inches," she said, "You've grown seven inches since your last measurement." She raised her eyebrows at me.

"Now just step on the scale, here," she ordered, and I stared down at the little black platform. I knew if I hesitated, she'd write that down and it would be viewed as someththing messed up.

I stepped on and waited.

The nurse sighed and made the note. "Step off," she looked at me, "Eighty-nine pounds."

"But I was ninety-one yesterday," I said somewhat frantically. _I drank three glasses of water and have quarters in my pockets! How could my weight possibly drop?_

"Well, weight can fluctuate up to four pounds everyday," she said.

I didn't look at my dad. I was afraid he would give me the infamous Stoick Haddock "this is disappointing and worrying" look.

"You can just leave your shoes off," said the nurse, and my dad picked them up, carrying them along with my coat. We continued down the hallway only a little ways more until the nurse opened a door with a sign reading: Exam Room 9. She gave us a close-lipped smile and waved us in. My dad folded my jacket and placed it on a chair, setting my shoes on top, then sat down in the chair next to it.

"You'll need to sit up on the table, Hiccup," the nurse said, dropping the clipboard of my paperwork onto the counter and opening a cabinet below. I hopped onto the flat, green exam surface, the crisp white paper crinkling beneath me. I slouched, hugging my arms to my stomach. The nurse pulled a light blue hospital gown out of the cabinet and handed it to me. I accepted it reluctantly, I remembered having to wear one a couple years before for my last appointment. It was humiliating.

"You'll have to change into this, sorry," she said apologetically, sensing my discomfort, "I'll just leave for a few minutes to give you some privacy. You can keep your underwear on," she added, shutting the door quietly behind her.

I fiddled with the hem of my sweater, hesitant to undress while my dad was in the room. I shot him a glance pointedly and he noticed.

"I'll just... um," he stuttered, ducking his head toward the ground and covering his eyes with his hand.

I pulled off my sweater, shivering from the lack of coverage, and tossed it into the chair with my coat and shoes. I slid off of the table to take off my pants. I carefully folded them, hiding the coin rolls. I figured I should take off my socks, too.

Feeling completely exposed and awkward, I quickly grabbed the gown off of the table and pulled it on, reaching my arms around to fasten the ties in the back.

When I'd finished, I sat back up on the table and tapped the cushion with my fingertips.

"Done?" asked my dad softly.

"Yeah," I said, barely louder than a whisper. This was strange for both of us. It had usually been my mom who had taken me to the doctor and stuff.

"How are— are you doing okay?"

I shrugged.

"Are you nervous?"

"I dunno," I shrugged again.

"I want you to be okay, Hiccup. Healthy." I stared at the floor, my drooping bangs blocking him from my view. "I don't care that you don't like sports, I just... I want you to be happy at school and home and just—"

The door opened and my dad stopped talking when the nurse came in. She smiled at me and wrote something down on the clipboard on the counter.

"The doctor is going to be in in a couple minutes," she said. She came over to me and took a tool thing out of a holder on the wall. "This takes your temperature, okay?"

I nodded, and she brushed the hair away from my face, inserting the tympanic thermometer into my ear. She made a note, then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my skinny bicep and pumped it up. She wrote that number down, too, then left the room, saying that Dr. Harris would be with us moment.

She was right, and it wasn't even a full minute before the door opened smoothly and a fit man in his mid-forties with neat brown hair sprinkled with gray came inside. He was wearing a stereotypical white coat over a button-down shirt and khakis.

He stretched out his hand to me. "Hello, Hiccup, I'm Dr. Harris." I shook his hand, weakly.

He turned to my father, who stood. "You must be Mr. Haddock," he greeted, shaking my dad's hand, too.

"Stoick," my dad said.

The doctor pulled a rolling stool to the middle of the room, sitting down and settling the clipboard and my file on his crossed legs. "So, Hiccup, your father told me over the phone that you got in a fight at school?" he said, gesturing to my black eye.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," I mumbled, shrugging.

He then turned to my dad. "I just have some questions for you, and then I'd like to speak to Hiccup and take a look at him in private."

My dad nodded. "Of course."

Dr. Harris asked him about my family's medical history, and mine, too. It didn't take as long as I thought it was going to, and before I knew it, my dad was being politely shooed back to the waiting room. The nurse who had taken my temperature and blood pressure slipped into the room before the door closed. She smiled at me, then bent over the computer on the counter and did... something.

I crossed my ankles and swung my bare feet back and forth, staring at the doctor's hand scribbling on the clipboard.

He put his pen down and looked up at me. "How do you feel, Hiccup?" He asked again.

"What do you mean?" _This is so weird._

He shifted on the stool. "Right now, what are you feeling? Are you nervous...? Scared...?"

I shrugged. "I dunno." He was speaking to me like a therapist.

He leaned forward slightly. "You must know that the reason you're here is that your school nurse discovered that you are underweight."

"No, I'm not," I defended heatedly, "I've always been small like this."

Dr. Harris shook his head. "The last time you were weighed, two years ago, you were six pounds heavier than you are now."

I was about to start speaking again, but he stood up and walked over to me. He flipped up a few pages on the stack of paper on the clipboard and showed me a graph. "This here," he pointed to a part of the graph, "Is the healthy weight for your age and height. The minimum healthy weight," he added, his lips pursed, "And this," he moved his finger down, "Is your weight."

I looked away and stared at the wall. _Shit._

 _Shit, shit, shit._

" _Medically,_ Hiccup, you are underweight."

"'kay," I mumbled, almost in the form of a question, as if I was asking him what the point of his statement was.

"There could be a lot of reasons, and we need to figure out which one. Being this underweight is very dangerous."

I didn't say anything.

"I'm going to give you a check-up, okay?"

I nodded. He took the stethoscope from around his neck and put the earpieces in.

"Just breathe normally," he said, slipping the metal part under the gown collar. I tried not to flinch when the cold steel pressed against my chest and moved around.

After a few moments, he pulled it out and it slid it under the thin cloth again onto my back. "Now, take deep breaths." He moved the speaker around, over my jagged spine and too-prominent ribs.

He sighed and hung the stethoscope back around his neck. "Your heart rate is irregular." Out of the corner of my eye I saw the nurse make a note in the file.

"What does that mean?" I asked anxiously.

"Your heart isn't beating strongly." _Well, duh, I could've told myself that,_ I thought sarcastically, but, really, his words freaked me out.

Next, he looked into my ears, eyes, and throat using one of those little light thingies. He also felt through my hair and examined my scalp.

"No pain?" he asked, gently but firming prodding my neck with his fingertips and feeling my glands.

I shook my head no.

"I'm going to have to ask you to lay down now, okay?" he said, walking over to the counter and pulling two latex gloves out of a box. I uneasily swiveled and lifted my toothpick legs onto the table, slowly laying back flat and crinkling the crisp white paper. I tapped my right index finger up and down on the cushion and stared up at the bland, colorless ceiling. I could feel my heartbeat palpitating nervously, and I tried not to cringe when I heard the snap of rubber connecting with skin.

If he lifted up the gown, he'd see _everything._ He wouldn't understand. I had accepted my body the way it was. To me, I had always been like that, and there was no changing it, so why try? I wasn't stupid, yes, more food meant bigger body, but I didn't really connect my eating habits with my physical abilities.

Or maybe I did, I don't know, it was complicated.

Dr. Harris's kind doctor face appeared over me, and he carefully pulled up the gown. All the way to my shoulders. He made no indication of being shocked by what was underneath, except for a slight furrowing of his brows and a small bite of his lip. He felt around my no-fat abdomen, pressing in various places. I remembered that when I was younger, the doctor feeling my belly would always tickle and my mom would laugh as I would try to hold back giggling.

Except now there was no ticklish sensation, and there sure as hell wan't any giggling. I was too terrified to do anything but stare at that phlegm-colored ceiling.

That terror turned into red-hot embarrassment when the doctor suddenly pulled my boxers down to my knees and examined my... area. I tried to ignore the nurse in the corner. It was humiliating enough to be naked in front of a man, but a woman was even worse. I curled my toes tightly and resisted against the urge to cover up.

I released a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding when he finally pulled up my underwear and down on the gown.

"Sit up," he said, throwing the gloves away into the trash can. I swung my legs back over the side of the table and leaned slightly forward on my hands, my elbows locked. Dr. Harris whispered something to the nurse, who left the room, then sat down on the stool and rolled it closer to me.

"So, you're a sophomore, right?" he asked, and I looked up at him, surprised. That really hadn't been the type of question I had been expecting.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Where do you go to school?"

Something told me that he already knew that answer, but I replied, anyway. "Berk High."

"Do you like high school?"

I shrugged. "'s okay."

"What about your home life?" _Oh, so this is where this is going._

"It's fine."

"Your mom travels a lot, that must me hard."

"She just got a promotion, so she'll be home more."

"That'll be nice."

I nodded.

"Are you provided with enough to eat at home, Hiccup?" The air in the room changed when he spoke the question delicately.

"Yes," I said somewhat forcibly. That wasn't a lie. We always had food in the kitchen.

"Are you eating three full meals a day?"

"Yes."

"Each one containing a sufficient amount of protein, fruits, and vegetables?"

"Yes."

He bit his lip, as though he wasn't sure what to say. "Anything you tell me, Hiccup, is confidential. I am legally bound to keep whatever you tell me between the two of us, unless you are in physical danger."

I didn't say anything.

"How do you feel about yourself, Hiccup?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are... are you happy with your physical appearance?" He was obviously choosing his words carefully. "Do you wish you looked any different?"

My face flushed, and I felt a defensive anger bubbling inside me. "Why are you asking that?"

He sighed. "As I told you, _medically speaking_ , you're severely underweight. I'm just trying to figure out what the cause is."

I stared at the floor.

"How do you feel? Physically, I mean." He kept his pen poised over the clipboard, ready.

"I dunno."

"Do you ever feel fatigued, even if you've had a full night of sleep?"

I shifted, unsure what a good answer would be. "I guess, sometimes." He made a note.

"Are you ever cold, even if it's hot out, or if you're wearing wearing a sweater, or if no one else is, etcetera?"

"Um, I dunno, maybe." Another note. "Why?"

"Fatigue and unexplained chilliness can be effects of malnutrition, which you show signs of. You also have lanugo on the back of your neck."

My eyes widened in fear. "What's that?"

He held his hand up to calm me. "Lanugo are small, fine hairs that grow on your body when it has trouble keeping warm on its own. It's sort of your body's last ditch effort to help you have a healthy temperature." He glanced down at the clipboard. "Your temperature is low, as well as your blood pressure." He looked up at me, as though he was expecting me to explain.

"So..." I trailed off.

"We need to figure out the cause of this. I'm going have you give some blood today, that won't take very long, and have you, y'know, pee in a cup." He stood up. "You can get dressed, now. I'm going to call your dad back and we'll talk to him, okay?"

"'kay," I said quietly, and he left the room.

I slid off the table, shivering when my bare feet met the cold floor. It made me freeze up when I immediately thought of what Dr. Harris had said. My body was actually making itself hairier because I was always cold. I shook my head. It was just who I was, right? _It doesn't... it doesn't matter._

 _I'm just scrawny._

0000000000

 **A/N: This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I figured I'd better update as soon as** **possible. The rest of the doctor's appointment will be in the next one, along with some Astrid and Valka. I'll try to be quicker.**

 **So, Hiccup is still in denial, Stoick still has no idea what to think of all of this, and everything's just slowly unfolding. I suck at pacing things, though. Sometimes I make it go too fast, and sometimes IT GOES WAY TOO SLOWLY. This is my first story, and I'm trying the best I can, though.**

 **Please review and tell me what you think :)**

 **Published: August 25, 2015**


	11. Excuses

_CHAPTER 11: DISORDER?_

0000000000

 **Hiccup's POV**

I eagerly took off the gown and pulled on my clothes and shoes. Unsure of what exactly to do with the unflattering "garment", I just folded it messily and put it on the table next to me. I crossed my arms across my stomach and swung my feet back and forth as I waited.

 _Oh, God, what will he think? He loves me in the way that parents_ have _to love their your children. But what the hell did he mean when he said that he didn't care about me not playing sports and that he just wants mean to be healthy and happy? UUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHH._

Panicky thoughts ran through my mind and I breathed in and out slowly, careful not to give myself an anxiety attack like the day before in the nurse's office.

My spine straightened suddenly when the door opened and my dad and the doctor walked. The doctor gave me a sad little smile while my dad just gave me a worried stare. I forced myself to look at him.

My dad sank uneasily into the chair next to the table and Dr. Harris took a seat on the edge of the stool. He tapped his fingers against his clipboard thoughtfully for a second, then took a deep breath and opened his mouth. "Mr. Haddock, Hiccup is underweight." I didn't look at my dad. "His vitals are low, and because of the lack of nutrients his body doesn't seem to be receiving, his growth may be stalled." I stared at the doctor's shoes. "Obviously, this is very concerning."

I glanced at my dad out of the corner of my eye, but when I saw that he was looking at me with a scared expression, I turned my gaze back to the floor.

"Is it... what's causing...?" My dad trailed off. I decided to look up, I didn't want them to have a conversation like I wasn't there.

Dr. Harris sighed furrowed his brows. "I didn't feel or see any signs of cancer or tumors, but I'm going have him give some blood and urine today and we'll run some tests."

My dad nodded shakily. "Okay."

"I have a couple more questions for you, Hiccup," he said, meeting my eyes. I bit my lip.

"Have you fainted at all within the last two months?"

 _Fuck. If I say no, what if sometime in the future Gobber tells Dad what happened at tryouts? If I say yes, Dad will ask me why I didn't tell him._

Knowing I was hesitating too long, I shook my head. "No."

"Have you felt dizzy at anytime? Like, if you walk up a flight of stairs, do you feel lightheaded once you reach the top? Or do you get head rushes often when you get up out of bed or off a chair or couch? Anything?"

"No, not really."

"Hmmm," he looked at my dad, "If he shows any signs of getting worse, if he faints, feels dizzy, nauseous, vomits, begins to run a fever, defecates or urinates blood, feels pain in his chest or abdomen, or seems unable to perform simple functions such as climbing stairs, call me."

My father nodded unsteadily.

"And, Hiccup, you need to tell your father or your school nurse if you experience any of these symptoms, okay?"

I nodded. _No, I won't. I just want this to stop._

Dr. Harris rubbed the back of his neck. "What I need to discuss with you now, it's— well, it's a very delicate subject." He cleared his throat and looked at my dad. "One of the possible causes of your son's current condition... could be an eating disorder."

My father drew in a quick breath. My head snapped up. "I don't have an _eating disorder_ ," I said heatedly.

The doctor sighed. "Hiccup, I may be wrong, but I have to consider this."

"Well, I don't," I said crossing my arms. _I don't._

"Hiccup," my dad spoke up. He looked at me, and tried desperately to tell him "it's not true, don't believe him, I'm fine" through my eyes. My dad turned to the doctor. "Do you really think that could be it?"

"It's... it's a strong possibility."

"No, it isn't! I don't— I'm not—"

Dr. Harris held up a hand to silence me. He stood up and walked over to the counter, then opened a drawer and rooted around in it.

 _I don't have an eating disorder. I just don't need a lot of food._

The doctor straightened up with two business cards in his hand. He sat down on the stool again and held them up. "These are the numbers of a couple specialists that can help you. This," he stretched out one of them to my dad, who accepted it, "Is a nutritionist. Hiccup's body obviously isn't getting enough nutrients, and he can help set up meal plans or whatever he needs. And this," he fingered the second card carefully before handing it to my dad," Is a therapist—"

"What, why?" I burst out.

Dr. Harris sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hiccup, an eating disorder is very likely the cause of your malnutrition. I think it would be a good idea for you to just _talk_ to Dr. Nelson. This is a very serious issue, _we_ _need to find out what the cause is._ " I stared at him with my mouth open, trying to think of something to interject.

"I'll make appointments for as soon as possible," said my dad. I shut my mouth and glared at the floor.

"We'll send them Hiccup's information." He looked to me. "There's a nurse waiting outside for you, go with her now and she's going to draw some blood, okay? I'm just going to talk to your dad for a bit longer."

I nodded apprehensively and slipped off the table, nervously glancing back at my father before opening the door. He gave me a smile that was probably supposed to be supportive, but only looked scared. I closed the door behind me hesitantly. The nurse in the blue scrubs was standing there with a clipboard.

"Here we go," she said positively, flashing me a smile. She lead me down the hallway, and before reaching the waiting room we turned into a room a little bigger than the exam room.

"Hold on a sec," she said, holding up a finger. I hugged my arm to my side awkwardly as she searched through a cabinet. She came back to me with a plastic cup with my name on it in marker. "The bathroom is right next door to the left," she said, handing it to me, "You know what to do?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I mumbled.

I came back five minutes later with the cup half-full of light-tea-colored piss.

The nurse bit her lip as she took it. "How much water do you drink a day, Hiccup?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, like, a couple glasses, maybe?"

She nodded, then put the urine sample in a drawer. "Try to drink eight glasses a day. I know it's hard to remember to do that, but you need to stay hydrated, okay?"

"Kay," I sighed. The whole day had been so exhausting.

She lead me over to a cushioned, gray chair with long, wide armrests. "Just make yourself comfortable," she said, sitting down on a stool in front of me and pulling on latex gloves. I sank down onto the seat uneasily as she fiddled with something on a table to my right.

"Stretch out your right arm," she directed.

"Do you have any problems with needles or seeing blood?" She asked as she rolled my baggy sleeve to halfway up my bicep. I shook my head. I did have a problem with _this_ though. _This_ , doctors asking me if I ate and nurses taking my blood for tests, was not my life.

She took a strip of rubber off of the table and tied it tightly just above my elbow. "If you feel a bit nervous you can just look away," she said, noticing my shakiness. For some reason, however, I kept my eyes fixed on my arm as she tapped the inside of my elbow with her fingers.

"I need you to relax," she said as she wiped the crook of my arm with an alcohol patch, "Just let your arm go completely limp."

I tried to release tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding as the nurse positioned the needle over my vein. At the last moment before it went in I turned my head away. I closed my eyes when I felt the prick. I felt her tape it to my skin, then there was silence.

After a few seconds, I glanced over at the crimson-filled tube coming from my arm. I leaned back against the chair and took a deep breath, trying to relax. The nurse, sensing my discomfort, started to talk to me.

"So, how's school going?"

I swallowed. "It's okay."

"Do you like your classes?"

I shrugged.

"Do you play any sports?"

"No."

"Oh, do you like to, though?" The conversation was a nice distraction from the needle in my skin.

"Not really. I tried out for football and failed."

She frowned sympathetically. "Well, that's alright."

I picked at my jeans with my left hand. "It was embarrassing." I don't know why I was being so open with this random nurse, I guess there was just a part of me that desperately wanted to let everything out.

"Don't sweat it, high school is only four years of your life."

I nodded. "Yeah."

She looked over the tubing and I stared at the floor. "Oh-kay, we're done here," she detached the line from my arm, untied the tourniquet, and pressed a piece of gauze onto the spot of blood, "Bend your elbow and hold your fist to your shoulder." I did as she said as she put the vial into some kind of container. "You're probably going to feel a bit lightheaded, so just rest for a few minutes."

She took the blood sample over to the counter and put it in a cabinet, then started writing something down.

I tilted my head back and stared the ceiling, puffing out my cheeks. In the silence, I worried about what the doctor and my dad were talking about. I was afraid that Dr. Harris would be filling his head with the certainty that I had an eating disorder and was completely nuts.

 _What am I going to do?_

The question ran through my mind over and over. Everything was happening so quickly and suddenly I was having tests and being asked questions and being told I was underweight and that I should go to a shrink and a nutritionist.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to run away and forget that all of this was happening.

I wanted to run to the other side of the world and find my mom and bring her home and have everything go back to normal.

I wanted time to reverse and go back to three years before. Before my mom got the "promotion" that meant she had to leave us for half the time. Before my dad became depressed and distant whenever she was gone.

"Okay, you're good to go," the nurse smiled and took off the piece of gauze, replacing it with a bright blue Band-Aid and snapping me out my daydreaming. I pushed myself out of the chair, my legs wobbled slightly and a dizziness overcame my senses for a moment. The nurse reached out and held my upper arm, steadying me.

"Alright?" She asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." I was getting very tired of having saying that to people.

0000000000

 **Stoick's POV**

"So, you really think that he could have an eating disorder?" I asked worriedly after Hiccup left the room.

The doctor sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yes. Yes, it's very likely that that's the cause."

All of the air fell out of my lungs. _Oh, son. My Hiccup. My boy._

"How... how sure are you?" I asked again. I didn't have a lot knowledge when it came to EDs, but I knew enough to know that they were things I'd never want my child to have to deal with.

"Over ninety percent," he said sadly, "Even if he has a growing disfunction or another type of disease."

"How bad is it?" I asked, my voice sounding strange to myself. _What am I going tell Val?_

 _This is all my_ _fault._

"He's... severely malnourished," the doctor said, "He needs treatment _as soon_ as possible. The nutritionist will be able to help, I'm sure that she'll put him on a weight gain diet, and a transition like that can be... hard, so I think it would good for him to talk to a therapist."

"I'll make appointments right away," I assured him.

The doctor nodded. "Good, good. Now," he leaned in slightly, scrunching his eyebrows together, "Have you noticed any, um, peculiar eating habits with Hiccup?"

I ran my hand across my face. "I— yes, I have. His school nurse, she asked me about that yesterday, I only just noticed."

He cleared his throat. "What is he like during meals?"

"Well, he sort of avoids food. I mean, he tells me that he's not hungry, and he tried to clear his plate when he'd only eaten about half, it's—" my head fell into my hands. "Oh, God, I've been a terrible father, I can't believe I didn't see this sooner. I just— it's been difficult, with my wife gone." I groaned. "I haven't paid him enough attention, I never get home before eight, I'm not sure if he even eats breakfast or lunch or dinner sometimes. Oh, _God_."

The doctor sighed. "People with disordered eating usually hide their behaviors."

I looked up. "What should I do?"

"The nutritionist will tell you what he needs, just make sure he eats that, and any of the complications that may arise can be dealt with in therapy. That's really all I have to say at the time."

I nodded. "Okay. Thank you," I said gratefully. _I'm going to fix this. I'm going to get my boy better._

Dr. Harris glanced at his watch. "I have another patient in a few minutes. I'd like Hiccup to come back in a week, and to try to gain at least a pound."

"Alright."

"His test results should arrive in about six to eight days, and whatever we find out from them we can deal with then."

"Thank you," I said again, and I really meant it.

I left the room and made another appointment at the front desk. Hiccup wasn't done with getting his blood drawn, so I sat down in an empty chair and waited.

I pulled out my phone and typed _eating disorders_ into Google.

0000000000

 **Published: September 19, 2015**

0000000000

 **Hiccup's POV**

I leaned my head up again the window and closed my eyes, the rumbling of the truck mimicking my shaken thoughts.

"Are you going to call mom?" I asked quietly.

My father sighed. "I have to, Hiccup."

"No, you don't."

"Son, this is serious. She needs to know. We're going to sit down tonight and Skype and we're going to tell her everything, okay?"

I didn't want her to know, I didn't want her to worry. Things weren't going the way they were supposed to. My mom was supposed to come home in a few months, and then we'd follow up then. Hopefully I would have made several successful moves on Astrid, and then I'd have a badass girlfriend and a whole family and high school would be the best time of my life.

 _Medically underweight_ wasn't supposed to be part of who I was.

"I don't have an eating disorder, Dad. The doctor's wrong, I'm fine," I said forcibly.

"Denial of a problem is one of the symptoms."

I frowned at him. "How do _you_ know?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "I, uh, read some stuff online while I was waiting for you."

"Oh, yeah, the internet, the most reliable source of information," I scoffed sarcastically.

He fixed his eyes on the road. "Dr. Harris said that your test results will come back in about a week, and he wants us to go and see him again then."

"'kay," I mumbled, staring out the window.

"And I made appointments for the nutritionist and... therapist," he finished carefully.

"I don't need a shrink, Dad," I spat vehemently.

My fathers knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Hiccup, we're going to follow the doctor's advice and go see them, okay?" It sounded more like an order than a question.

After a moment, I said quietly, "When?"

"Dr. Greene, the nutritionist, he can see you tomorrow at one," his voice was steady, but with an underlying tone of unsteadiness, "and Dr. Nelson said she had an empty slot at four, also tomorrow."

So many things were bursting into my mind. I needed an excuse, quick. "I have school tomorrow, though," I said.

"You can just go for the first half of the day, then."

"No, I can't, Dad, I need to catch up. I've already missed too much with yesterday and today."

"You'll just have to go to your teachers and ask for the assignments you'll miss," he countered.

"But I need to actually be _in_ the class, or else I won't know the material to do the work. You see, that's kind of the whole point of _teaching_ —"

My father suddenly slammed his palm down on the top of the steering wheel, interrupting my sarcastic snipe. "Goddammit, Hiccup!" His voice cracked on the last syllable of my name. "You're physically unstable! You're vitals are irregular and you look like you're about to collapse! I saw you this morning, Hiccup, you look skeletal! I'm taking you to see the nutritionist and the therapist and we're telling your mother!" He let out a deep sigh and his tone softened, "I'm worried about you, son."

"Well, that's a change," I mumbled out the window.

I could feel my dad's eyes on the back of my head. "What did you say?" His question wasn't angry or threatening. If anything, he sounded hurt.

"Nothing," I said.

"Hiccup..." he said quietly, "Do you think I don't care about you?"

"Never have before." It just slipped out.

My father was silent.

0000000000

 **Stoick's POV**

He's right. Or, he has _reasons_ to be right. I do care about him, I really do. I just don't know how to _understand_ him. He's always been so... different. I know what I was like as a kid, and how my father spoke to me... but, Hiccup is _not me_.

Not that I was disappointed in him or anything.

Val is so much better at things like this. She knows how to make him talk. She knows how to make me talk. I couldn't believe that she would be gone for _three months_. I knew something was going to go wrong, _I knew it_. Every time that something's gone _wrong_ with Hiccup, it was when she was on a trip.

No mother should have to come home to find their twelve year old son lying on the couch propping up a sprained ankle on a pillow. Or hiding a bruise from running into a wall with makeup. Or with their arm in a sling from the time when they thought it would be cool to try and build a treehouse by themselves.

All my fault. I hadn't been paying any attention to him. I swore to myself in the Berk High School nurse's office that that would change.

I promised Valka that I would protect him while she was gone. At first I thought that the black eye was the worst thing that would happen, but all of this...

 _I'm a terrible father._

0000000000

 **Hiccup's POV**

I went straight to my room when we got home. I think my dad started to try and say something, but he stopped when I climbed the stairs. I was careful to walk completely normally and confidently, I could feel his eyes on me, watching to see if I looked dizzy or tired.

I slammed my door pointedly, accidentally bumping Toothless with it as he bounded in after me. He yelped and I said a quick apology before locking the door. I went over to my bed and fell face down into the pillow. I groaned, contemplating screaming into the soft object. Toothless hopped up on the bed and nuzzled me, making the soft 'waroooo' noise he makes when he's concerned about me.

I rolled my head over and looked up at him. "I'm kinda havin' another rough day, bud," I said. He licked my face with his sandpaper tongue.

I lay there for a couple more minutes, just letting him clean my cheeks and forehead with large wet kisses. I rolled over onto my back and wiped my face with my shirt sleeve. I felt a buzz in my pocket and pulled out my phone.

Astrid: _are you going to be at school tomorrow?_

There were also a few texts from Fishlegs, about fifty problems in Pre-Calc (he went to the teacher and asked for me), he didn't know what I had missed in Chemistry, I had to read the next two chapters of _The Scarlet Letter_ for English, and do a two-hundred word paper about Stalin's five-year plan.

I sent him a simple thanks, then ran my thumb over the message from Astrid, wondering if I should reply or not. Deep down I knew that there was no way that I could convince my dad to cancel my doctors' appointments, but I still wanted to try. I clicked off my phone and set it aside. It was only 4:30, and my father would probably come get me for dinner, and I hoped he wouldn't try to talk to me before then.

I sat down at my desk and flew through the paper for History, even though I was usually pretty bad at that class. Math was super easy and snapped into my head right away, but the chapters of Nathaniel Hawthorne's insufferable novel droned on for what felt like hours.

I checked the time again, only an hour had passed. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. Usually, at this time, I would be downstairs watching television, or playing with Toothless and Skullcrusher in the backyard.

 _If I go downstairs while my dad is there, he'll try to talk to me and act all fake caring and shit._

I picked up my phone and opened it again, my thumbs poised over the keyboard.

 _Maybe_ , I replied.

She texted back within the next two minutes. _What did ur doctor say?_

 _Oh, god, what am I supposed to day to that?_ I panicked in my mind.

H: _I'm fine, he just wants me to take it easy_

A: _did Dagur fracture your ribs or something?_

H: _no, he just told me to rest, i dont know why_

A: _oh ok, will you be up for tutoring me tomorrow afternoon?_

I bit my lip. Astrid was going to come over at five, and my _therapist_ appointment was at four. Maybe I could get out of that if I told my dad about Astrid...

H: _yeah, definitely_

A: _ok, good, I really want to see u soon. hope you feel better_

H: _thanks_

There was a sudden knock on the door and I jumped. "Hiccup, you in there, son?"

I sighed. "Yeah, what do you want?" I snipped, my irritation returning.

The knob shook as when he tried to turn it. "Can I come in?"

"Why?"

"I'd like to talk to you."

I groaned and gave Toothless a 'can you believe it?' face. He cocked his head at me concernedly. "Can't you just tell me through the door?"

"Hiccup," he said firmly.

"Fine," I got up and unlocked the door.

He opened it carefully, peeking through the crack before stepping through.

"So, you know that we're telling your mother tonight."

I stared at the floor. "We don't have—"

"Please don't start this again, son."

I shifted uncomfortably. "What are you going to tell her?" I mumbled.

He massaged his forehead with his fingertips. "I think... let's just tell her what happened at school, and what your doctor said."

I nodded shrugged. "'kay."

"Is... is there anything you want to tell me, Hiccup?" He came closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "You can talk to me. I want you to."

I shook my head, eyes avoiding his.

He patted my back awkwardly. "Well, I'll just... uh, come get you when dinner's ready." He said the word _dinner_ carefully, as though testing my reaction.

"Fine."

He nodded awkwardly then headed out the door.

"Um, wait, dad?"

He came back quickly, sticking his upper, hulking half back through the doorway. "Yes?"

"I just remembered, Astrid's coming over tomorrow at five for math tutoring, so I can't go to Dr. Nelson," I hoped with all my heart that he would just say 'okay'.

"Well, can she just come over a few minutes later? She said your appointment was only going to take about an hour," he frowned at me. "Don't try to get out of this, Hiccup, you're going." And with that final note he left.

I groaned and fell back on my bed, closing my eyes against the world. Toothless, who had been laying on the floor silently, hopped back up on the bed and curled up next to me, resting his head on my chest in a 'please be okay' gesture.

0000000000

"Come downstairs, Hiccup!"

At 7:30 I clomped down the steps and into the kitchen, unenthusiastic and stoic. I may not have inherited much from my dad, but the meaning of his name definitely applied to me at times.

"I made spagetti," he said holding up two plates with heaping piles of noodles, sauce, and meatballs on them, "and you're going to eat all of it," a firm stare accompanied this order. He set the plates down on the table across from each other next to napkins, silverware, and glasses of water. "Dr. Harris wants you to gain at least a pound in the next week."

He whistled to Toothless and Skullcrusher and filled their bowls with dog food while I set myself down uncertainly in a chair.

My dad sat down, put his napkin in his lap, picked up his fork, then gave me flick of his eyes to tell me to start eating.

I sighed and twirled some noodles onto my fork and sucked them into my mouth loudly and animatedly.

"Hiccup—"

"Trying to eat, dad. I can't eat while I talk," I said snarkily, and I immediately felt terrible for it, but I was already sick of his 'caring'. I just felt like it wasn't real or genuine.

He rubbed his forehead. "Easy on the attitude, son. And you don't have to talk, just listen."

I stared at my plate and spun more noodles around.

"I know you think that I don't care about you, Hiccup," I wanted to open my mouth to stop him, but there was food in it. "I haven't given you as much attention as I know I should be..."

I swallowed. "Dad—" I started, trying to get him to shut up. This kind of stuff was painful to listen to. It made me feel like I hurt him and he was mad at me.

He cut me off. "Son, please. I just... From now on, I am going to treat you better, I promise."

"You treated me fine dad, this speech is really unnecess—"

He glared at me and kept talking. "I'm going to tell my boss that I can't work on as many cases and as many hours at the firm, which is something I should have done years ago."

I gulped another small glob of spaghetti down my throat. "You can't do that, you'll get paid less." _And it will be my fault_.

"Well, no... no, I won't. I've been —and I hate that I have— I've been working overtime for— for a while now, so my pay will just be normal."

I poked at the pasta. _I knew it. He's just been trying to avoid all this time, he hates me. I'm just a big disappointment._ "So that's why you're home so late a lot," I whispered.

"I know, I know, and I feel horrible about it, son, I'm so sorry..."

"It's fine," I mumbled.

"No, it's not. I don't..." He exhaled. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm going to be here for you now, and I don't know what has happened to you these past few years." He paused, and then his tone became more interrogative. "Do you eat dinner when I'm working late?"

"Of course I do," I said, meeting his eyes challengingly and taking a sip of my water.

"How am I supposed to know that you're telling the truth after what the doctor said?"

"Are you going to believe a random stranger or your own flesh and blood?" I sniped, hoping to bank on the "sentimental fatherlyness" he was apparently trying to display.

"I'm going to believe the medical professional who diagnosed you with severe malnutrition," he threw back at me. "And eat your food, I've eaten more than you and I've been talking the whole time," he added.

The next twenty minutes were agonizing, with me choking down the whole plate of noodles while my dad watched critically. When I'd finally finished, he cleared me to stand up and put my dishes in the sink.

When I turned around from the counter my dad was there. He put his plate and glass in the stainless steel tub then put his hand on my shoulder to stop me from walking away. "I have to do a few things to do on my computer, just a some reports I was supposed to finalize at work today. Could you take Toothless and Skullcrusher for a walk?"

"Oh, um, yeah, sure." I usually only took the dogs for a walk early in the morning, then let them out in the large, fenced-inbackyard any other time. "Can I do it in like ten minutes? I've gotta go to the bathroom and pack my backpack for tomorrow."

He nodded. "Okay."

I headed upstairs and went into my bathroom, shutting the door before Toothless could follow me in. I sat down on the floor, groaning, and leaned up against the wall. I felt bloated, as though my body was a balloon and had been overfilled with water. I wanted the sensation to stop, I wasn't used to being this full.

After a couple minutes with no relief, I flipped up the toilet lid and sat down. Nothing happened, the sick feeling wasn't that far down, it was my stomach. I pulled my pants up and stared back down at the toilet.

 _Should I...?_

 _No, no, only freaks do that._

 _But my stomach feels **horrible**. I just want it to stop, is that so bad?_

 _I think I'll throw up anyway, so..._

I twisted the faucet knob and let the water run at full force and I turned on the bathroom fan. I wanted to create as much noise as possible, if my dad found out what I was going to do... that would be really bad.

I washed my hands in the sink and let the water keep running. I locked the bathroom door. I stood in front of the toilet and flipped up the seat, then bent down.

"I just feel really sick, that's all, I just feel sick," I whispered to myself as I lifted two fingers up toward my mouth.

I closed my eyes as I pressed my fingertips as far back as I could, but my instincts kicked in before I could trigger my gag reflex. I choked and pulled my hand out, coughing. I tried again, and again, but each time I couldn't find the courage or will to keep my fingers all the way back. _I'm a wuss. A wimp._

My dad would probably get suspicious if I took much longer, so I decided to do something that I knew about from television, movies, and just from being a high schooler.

I took my toothbrush and wet the end without the bristles under the water. I kneeled down in front of the toilet again and gripped the brush end tightly. I slid it down along my tongue until I could feel it pressing the back of my throat. Every muscle in my hand and arm was screaming 'GET THAT THING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH, YOU IDIOT, YOU'LL CHOKE!', but I held steady until I felt...

I yanked the toothbrush out my mouth and threw it to the floor as my dinner belched past my lips and into the bowl. I breathed deeply and opened my eyes, leaning back away from the mushed up spaghetti floating in the water. After I caught my breath I stood up shakily and slammed down the the seat and lid and flushed the ugly mess away. With trembling hands I washed my face and mouth in the sink and gulped down water to get the taste out.

I felt shaky, but my stomach no longer felt swollen. I turned off the water, the fan, and exited the bathroom. Toothless had been waiting for me, and when I came out, he whined and sniffed me.

"I'm fine, bud, just fine," I said to him and headed downstairs. My dad was at the table, papers spread out around his computer.

"I'm going now," I said, taking my coat off the hook and pulling it on. Toothless, his worry for me momentarily preoccupied by his excitement for a walk, jumped at the hanging leashes.

My dad turned to me as I laced up my shoes. "Okay, don't be gone long, we're talking to your mother at nine."

I sighed and tried not to think about it. I clipped the leashes onto the dogs collars and walked out the front door without another word.

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 ****READ THIS****

 **A/N: I know that some people are going to be wondering "Is Hiccup bulimic now?", and the answer is no. Bulimia is when someone follows a binging and purging pattern, where they feel shame when they believe they've eaten too much. Hiccup is just not used to eating so much, and he threw up because he felt sick. Obviously, this is not good for his weak body, though.**

 **So, I was gonna have the Valka conversation in this chapter, but I guess it'll be in the next one. I keep accidentally putting it off. I have about half of it written, though. This time, I'm not going to say when I'll have another chapter ready, because I honestly don't know. It could be two days from now, or two weeks from now, or a month from now. I'm really trying though, guys, just hang on.**

 **Please review, thanks :)**

 **Published: November 1, 2015**


	12. Conversations

_CHAPTER 13: CONVERSATIONS_

 **A/N: Hi, everyone, sorry for the long wait, school has been taking up most of my time. I'm still writing everyday, but, only like a paragraph a day and it's not good. I'm such a hypocrite too, because I still read fan fictions and comment "Update soon!" on them, even though I'm almost two months behind my own stories. It's hard for me get the passion to write (I'm thinking up plot lines all the time, though), but once I do feel the insistent feeling to continue the story, I write A TON. I just haven't had that 'feeling' since October, but my writing speed is going to pick up over the next few weeks** **because I'm on holiday break, so expect at least two more chapter by February. (I'm really, really hoping to keep that promise)**

 **Also, if anyone's confused about the Catching Fire reference in here: There's a part in it when Peeta asks Katniss about her favorite color because he's trying to bond with her and stuff.**

 **AND** **I've decided to change Stoick's job from City Hall employee to small-firm lawyer, so there will some minor changes to previous chapters. And I didn't exactly proofread this chapter, so later on I'll correct any mistakes I made, but this needs to be posted now because it's been way too long.**

 **I hope you guys have an awesome holiday season and a fantastic New Year!**

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 **Hiccup's POV**

I breathed into my palms and rubbed them together to warm them. However, the dogs were so excited to get going that my hands were yanked away by the leashes before they could reach a comfortable temperature. I felt colder than usual for some reason.

I turned right off the front pathway, towards the direction of Astrid's house. I usually went that way during my morning walks, I guess that I'd developed a habit or routine, always hoping for a glimpse of her through a window. Again, not like I stalked her or something, I just... she was a daydream. I never thought she could even acknowledge me, but now... _are we dating or something?_

Maybe...

The invitation to the Thorston's party had sort of been like asking me out, I didn't really know, I had no experience with girlfriends or dating or flirting or anything like that. My dad, former football star and prom king, of course did, though. If all of the "eating disorder" shit hadn't suddenly happened, we could have bonded over a conversation about that stuff. It probably would have been embarrassing and awkward at first, but maybe he would have been proud that a smart, athletic girl had actually given me a second glance. _Well, how am I supposed to know now?_

I stopped at the crosswalk for a couple passing cars and for Toothless to lift his leg and mark the stop sign. We started to head across the street and I turned my head to the right, spotting a group of several boys that I'd seen around school dribbling some basketballs about two blocks that way. I hurried across the road, paranoid. As if they would notice me anyway.

I walked on for two more blocks, waving hello to familiar people mowing their lawns or watering their gardens, before I turned across Nadder Road onto Astrid's side and headed back. Just as I had almost reached her blue two-story, I heard tires on the sidewalk and a bell ringing behind me. I spun my head around and stepped to the side, expecting maybe an older couple on a late evening bicycle ride.

"Hey, Hiccup," greeted Astrid, stopping her blue mountain bike and stepping off it. I was about to reply when her eyes adjusted in the dusk light and widened when she saw my bruises. "Oh my God, your face!"

"Uh..." I said awkwardly, not sure what to say. She immediately put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, God, sorry, I really didn't mean for it to come out like that," she said, giving me an apologetic look. "I just..."

I gave a little laugh and touched my cheek. "Yeah, it's ugly. It's fine, I was shocked, too, when I looked in the mirror this morning."

She was about to start talking again when Toothless and Skullcrusher surged forward, ecstatic about the possibility of a new friend. Astrid gave a small 'Oh!' and flipped down her bike's kickstand so she could bend down to pet them. She spluttered and laughed as they attacked her with kisses.

"Sorry," I said through a smile, pulling back on the dogs leashes and giving half-stern commands for 'down' and 'off'.

She wiped off her cheeks and nose and stood up straight. "No apology necessary, dog-love is always welcome," she said fondly, petting Skullcrusher's head with her hand, "I've been trying to convince my parents to get me a husky for _years_. I can't believe you have two dogs, lucky," she teased enviously.

Talking and listening to her almost made me forget that not twenty minutes ago I had stuck a toothbrush down my throat so I could vomit into a toilet. However, 'lucky' wasn't exactly the word I would have used to describe my life. _And yes, I_ _know that there are people who have it worse off than me._

I shrugged apologetically. "My parents love animals, we have a cat, too."

She gave me a fake glare. "Just rub it in, why don't you?"

Before I thought twice, I asked, "Wanna walk with us for a little bit?" I hoped that she wouldn't be able to see the blush creeping up my cheeks.

To my great surprise, however, she smiled and said, "Okay."

In one swift movement, she laid her bike down in her front lawn and we started walking.

We were awkwardly silent for a moment until Astrid reached out her hand toward me. I panicked, foolishly thinking that she was wanting to hold hands or something, and almost took her hand in mine before she said, "I can walk one of them."

I quickly pulled my hand back to my side, embarrassed and praying that she hadn't noticed. "Oh, sure, if you want to."

I slipped Skullcrusher's leash off of my wrist and handed it to her. She smiled. "I love walking dogs."

I looked at her. "Why don't your parents like dogs?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's my brothers' fault really, too many dead hamsters. Now my parents don't trust them with anything larger than a goldfish."

I almost laughed, but was afraid it would earn me a punch. We crossed the street onto the next block. Astrid kicked along a pebble as we walked. "You could tell them that you'd take care of it all by yourself."

Se sighed and glared straight ahead. "Believe me, I have tried."

Her tone was so relatable I couldn't help but say something. "Yeah, my dad's like that, too." I stepped on a twig and it snapped.

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Won't listen sometimes."

"Parents," she said with an annoyed snip at the end of the word. Another kick to the pebble and it went flying into the grass, unfindable.

"Parents," I agreed, hoping it would put an end to the conversation. Talking about my dad reminded of... everything. I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand.

Astrid looked over to me and frowned. "Are you alright?"

I met her eyes. "Why?"

She squinted at me. "You don't look so good."

 _I'm not good. When I get home I have to have a conversation with both my parents about something that doesn't even exist. And now all these doctors and nurses and my dad think I have an eating disorder and they're going to convince my mom that I do when I actually don't in the slightest. I EAT, I REALLY DO, I just get filled up quicker than other people, it's just the way I am. When I eat more than I usually do, I feel sick. And right now my throat hurts and my head hurts and my chest hurts and my back hurts and I don't know why._

However, instead of spilling out the raging battle of thoughts inside my head, I snorted and said, "Yeah, I know, my face looks like someone dropped anvil on it, then ran me over with a golf cart."

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she didn't do her lovable snorting laugh. "I meant that you look tired."

I shrugged. "I think it's just the lighting," I said, gesturing to the dusky-pink sky in the distance.

Astrid's lips pursed. "Didn't you say that your doctor wanted you to rest, though?"

"I'm fine." Astrid backed off a little at my irritated tone.

"Are you going to school tomorrow?"

"For the first half of the day." We paused at a tree to let the dogs sniff it.

"If you don't mind me asking... you said the school nurse freaked out about your size?"

An explanation popped into my mind faster than I thought it would. "Yeah she was wrong about that, my doctor said so," I said, hoping that would be then end of it.

"Why are you supposed to rest, then?"

 _Excuse... lie..._ "He said that I wasn't getting enough sleep," I shrugged, then fake-laughed, "Too much late-night geeky studying, I guess."

She pursed her lips. "Oh. Well, we should turn back, now, then," she looked a little disbelieving, but she let the matter drop.

We crossed the street and Toothless looked up at me with a frown that said 'Why can't we go farther?'. I watched Astrid out of the corner of my eye as we began to walk back towards my house. She was wearing a maroon hoodie that looked amazing with her hair, and just a simple pair of skinny jeans with her navy blue Toms. Her golden locks were undone, flowing down her shoulders like a... waterfall of sun rays. _Oh, God, am I being **sappy**? _ Her hair was wavy, and I wondered if it was like that naturally or if it was from being tied up in a braid all day. She wasn't wearing any makeup, and I could see a few pimples and light shadows under her eyes. I liked them, the small imperfections.

 _Who am I to talk about what's 'perfect' or not? It's not like I've ever experienced what it even feels like to even be satisfactory._

We had two more blocks before we'd reach my home, but we were remaining silent. When we crossed the street and had only five more houses to go, she broke the quiet. "What's your favorite color?"

I looked at with my eyebrows knit. "What?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, I don't really know much about you other than: you're good at math, you have two dogs and a cat, your dad's Stoick Haddock, and that people are way meaner to you than they should be."

It was still so baffling, why she had suddenly become nice to me. "Sooo," I said, raising my eyebrow at her, "You decided to go with the 'what's your favorite color' question?"

She snorted a laugh. "It's cliché, I know. I think I've read _Catching Fire_ too many times." I laughed. _Now I know she likes_ The Hunger Games. I made a mental note to retread the whole series.

She looked over at me expectantly. "Well?"

I pretended to look dramatically thoughtful. "Hmm... green, I guess. What's yours?"

"Either... dark red, or blue."

I smiled. "I can tell," I said, gesturing to her hoodie, jeans, and shoes.

She looked down at her outfit and chuckled. "I know. If you look in my wardrobe, like, all you see is red, blue, beige, and grey. I think I need some more variety."

"I love how you dress. You always look so... casual but sophisticated."

She bit her lip and looked ahead. "Huh, casual but sophisticated," she murmurmed contemplatively.

I felt a twinge of unhappiness as we neared my front pathway, and not just because I was anxious to have to go inside and face my dad, but because I wanted to have more time to get to know the girl walking beside me.

We came up the front walk and, even with the sunlight almost gone, Astrid's bright-white, slightly-crooked grin caught my eye. "Good job," she said, congratulatory.

"Huh?" I was confused.

"You haven't stuttered or mumbled once the whole time," she gave me what she must have thought would be a 'light' punch on my shoulder.

I nervously laughed and rubbed what would probably be a bruise by the next morning. "Oh, I... uh, um..."

"Oh, come on, you just ruined your good streak," she said with fake disappointment.

We paused to let Toothless go to the bathroom. "You... you kind of make me nervous, y'know," I admitted.

Her mouth scrunched. "Why?"

"You're intimidating." I meant it as a compliment, I really did.

Astrid looked down at the ground. "I guess my mission has been accomplished, then," she said it in a joking and proud voice, but under that, she almost sounded... hurt.

 _Uh oh._ I tried rewording that. "I mean, you're so amazing and, like, so _you_. Everyone knows you, and to not mess with you, because you're awesome and smart and beautiful and you're so much stronger than everyone else-"

My babbling speech was halted to a stop when her lips collided into mine. It happened so quickly I didn't even have time to react. I just stood there, my eyes wide open like a goon, while she gently kissed me. Her eyes were open as well, but they were calm and sure, with a hint of a smile playing in them.

After an awkward moment, she whispered into my mouth, her breath sweet and minty, "You're supposed to kiss back, y'know."

I shook myself mentally, let my eyelids slide closed, and tried to figure out what to do. _Do I open and close my lips, and suck on hers or something? Should I stick my tongue inside?_

She was lightly brushing her slightly-chapped lips against mine, and carefully moving her jaw up and down gently. I tried to do the same, but was positive that I was still terrible. I prayed to God that my mouth didn't taste or smell like puke.

As we pulled apart, she slipped Skullcrusher's leash onto my wrist. I gaped at her as though I'd gone brain dead. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she took a step backwards. Her hand was at her collarbone, fingering a small silver necklace I hadn't noticed until I saw spinning in her fingers just then.

She looked... awkward, which I didn't think could have been possible. I mean, she was _Astrid_.

She walked backwards down the sidewalk. "This was nice," she said softly, "See you tomorrow." She turned her back to me and started to go home.

I swallowed. "Oh... uh... what, um..."

She looked back over her shoulder and only said, "Goodnight, Hiccup. Get lots of sleep."

I gulped again. "O— okay, goodnight."

She waved and turned her head away. I watched, stunned with confusion, as she crossed the street, picked her bike off her front lawn, and rolled it around to the back of her house where she disappeared. For a second I kind of smiled, feeling almost high on the unbelievable experience.

But then I turned around and my happiness faded into nonexistence when I remembered that I was going to have to go inside and face my dad. And my mom.

 _What will she say? Will she defend me, or will she agree with the doctor and my dad that I'm a nutjob?_

I climbed the steps onto the front porch and took a deep breath, telling myself that the weakness in my knees was from nervousness. I opened the front door and the dogs reluctantly went inside. I unclipped their leashes and hung them on the hooks along with my jacket, then went through the doorway into the living room. My dad was still on his computer at the kitchen table, the only thing that had changed was that the arrangement of papers had become larger and he had a cup of coffee near his right hand. He looked up when I came into the room.

"How was the walk?" He asked in that new tone of voice he'd had ever since the nurse's office.

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze, and tiredly slumped down onto the couch. "Fine, I guess."

"I, uh, thought I saw someone walking with you out the window."

My face reddened. "Oh, um, yeah, Astrid had just gotten back from a bike ride and she walked with me." A smile tugged a bit at the corners of my mouth, but other thoughts kept it from appearing.

Toothless jumped up onto the couch and rolled around to get my attention, and I rubbed his stomach but stopped at my dad's next question.

"You really like this girl, don't you?"

His question startled me. Yeah, he had been all excited and proud when she had asked me to Ruff and Tuff's party, but I didn't think he had been paying attention to my feelings for her, I thought he was just happy I finally had a potential girlfriend. That was how I had grown up, it had always seemed that it didn't matter how I felt about things, just as long as my actions were satisfactory by his standards. If I did something that didn't meet his expectations, he'd rub his forehead in disappointment and give me a look that I interpreted as, 'Can't you do better than that?'

"Yeah, I do," I said quietly, picking at my brittle fingernails.

"Son, are you two dati—?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I cut him off.

I heard a sigh. "Okay." Then, "It's 8:25 right now, so we'll be Skyping your mother in about a half an hour."

"Fine," I muttered. I got up off the couch and headed towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" He asked, and I felt annoyance flare. I hated this new attention he was giving me, inquiring about my every single goddamn move.

"Up to my room to read," I said, turning toward him and trying to muster up a glare. "Why?"

He twisted his coffee mug (which read 'I ❤ NY') so that the handle faced him. "Bring your book down here and read on the couch."

I glanced around the room as though this was some kind of joke. "What, why?"

He pursed his lips. "Because I said so."

I scowled. "That's not actually a reason, you know," I pointed out.

He frowned right back, but there was something in his expression, almost close to pity. " _Hiccup_."

I exhaled angrily and turned away. "Fine, I'll be right back," and headed upstairs quickly. I leaned slightly against the hallway wall with my hand as I walked to my room. I dug out _The Hunger Games_ from the bottom shelf of my bookshelf and went back downstairs.

For the next twenty-five minutes I tried to read it, but my mind kept drifting off with worry. I couldn't stop fearing about... well, everything. What my dad would say to my mom, how my mom would react, how my dad would react to my mom's reaction, my doctor's appointments tomorrow, and what the shrink would think of me. And what if someone at school found out? Then Astrid would find out and she'd think I was freak.

"Hiccup?"

I blinked and looked up at my dad. I had been so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed he'd come into the room and was standing over me. "Huh?"

He frowned and touched my forehead with the back of his hand. "What are you doing?" I said, flinching backwards.

"Your eyes looked unfocussed and I've been calling your name." He crossed his arms and sat down on the coffee table. I could tell that the list of symptoms that the doctor had told him to watch for was going through mind and he was trying to see if one of them fit me.

I folded a page corner down and slapped my book shut. "I'm fine, I was just thinking."

He looked like he was going to say something more, but just sighed and stood up. "I need to speak with you at the table." He got up and walked back into the kitchen.

"Um, okay," I muttered uneasily and followed. He sat down and motioned for me to sit across from him. I tried to swallow my dread and sat, pressing my hands together between my completely straight thighs to try and stop them from shaking. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

He clasped his hands together in front of him on the table. "I think you know."

I shrugged. "Nope, no idea."

"You know I hate the sass, Hiccup," he said sternly.

"I'm not being 'sassy'."

"You honestly don't know what I'm going to talk to you about, then?"

I picked at the placement with my fingernail. "Mom."

He nodded. "Yes." A pause. "Look at me, son."

His irritated tone frightened me enough to make me apprehensively raise my eyes to meet his. He closed them for a moment between looking directly at me and announcing, "I'm going to tell her about your eating disorder."

It shocked me so much that I hit my knuckles on the underside of the table. "What!?"

"Look, Hiccu—"

"Dad, I don't even have one!"

"Dr. Harris suspects that the cause—"

I pressed my hands on the table, considering standing up. "Yeah, he _suspects_! And he's wrong, anyway!"

"Well, she deserves to know everything that's going on."

"I— no— but, she's not gonna be on my side!"

"There are no _sides_ , Hiccup! You're underweight and unhealthy—"

"I'm just smaller than everyone else, you know I've always—"

And then he was the one who stood up, leaning forward and glaring down at me, the angry desperation he showed making me cower to the back of the chair. I'd seen the same anger on his face a thousand times, after I tried to build a treehouse by myself, after I once brought a stray cat home, the time I started a small fire in the oven by accident because I wasn't paying attention. But this time there was the desperation, as though he was sad that he had to get mad at me, and didn't really want to.

"Do not interrupt me again, Hiccup," he said in his terrifyingly Scottish voice that definitely reached at least Level 2 shouting. He'd always hated it when I interrupted him, but how else was I going to get a chance to get through what I was trying to say to him?

I was shaking, and he noticed, so he sat down and took a deep breath to cool his temper. "Look, I see what you're trying to say," ( _Do you, Dad? Do you ever?_ ), "But—," he rubbed his forehead, "Okay, let me start again. And do _not_ interrupt. We are going to start by telling your mother that after the fight at school, the nurse weighed you, and was concerned because she saw that it was too low," I wanted to stop him so badly, but bit both my lips together to restrain myself, "I'll tell your mom how Ms. Harper strongly advised that I take you to the doctor, and how I'll say how they described your physical condition. I will be telling her that Dr. Harris suspects that the cause is that you have an eating disorder."

"But—" I couldn't help it. He looked at me. "Sorry," I said.

"Alright, I won't say 'eating disorder', I'll say 'bad eating habits' instead. I won't confirm or deny anything, and I don't want you to barge into the middle of our explanation and deny anything either, okay?" I nodded reluctantly. "I'll tell her about the blood test and that he's going to talk to us in a week about it, and how we'll know more then. Do we have an agreement?"

"I guess," I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Yes," I sighed loudly.

He was silent for a moment, as though mulling over my responses and reactions that I had displayed during the 'conversation' (more like 'another argument where I couldn't get a word in without getting shouted down'). See, most of the interactions my dad and I had were his speeches about my behavior and how I got on his nerves. Really, the only great times we had together were when my mom was home, when we were a full family. In that small moment of silence, I felt a surge of anger toward her, for leaving us. _I know it's her job and all to go away and she can't prevent it, it paid well, but doesn't she care that it hurts her husband?_

"Alright then." He opened the computer screen. "Come sit over here."

I stood up slowly, pushed my chair in slowly, walked around the table slowly, pulled another chair next to my dad's slowly, and sat down slowly, attempting to stall.

He opened Skype and clicked my mom's name, and it started to ring. I gripped the edge of the chair seat so hard until my hands went numb.

"Hello, everyone!" My mom waved from the screen. She looked beautiful in the early morning, smoggy light in China. Her hair was done up in an elaborate braid. I loved her hair so much. When I was little and got scared or nervous, I would hide under the curtain of it as though it was a magic veil of safety and nothing bad could ever happen to me there.

She immediately asked, "Hiccup, how's your eye? Is it still hurting? Are you okay?"

I panicked, of course, my anxiousness taking over and making me blurt out in an octave higher than usual, "Yeah I'm fine everything's fine," really quickly.

I guess she must have thought I was just really excited to see her, and she smiled. "That's good. How's everything going there? School? The dogs?" She added in a mischievous tone, " _Astrid?_ "

 _Not now, Mom, not now._

"Valka," said my dad in his most serious voice, the one that I heard only when he was talking about a terrorist attack or natural disaster or some other horrific thing.

I looked down to my knees and shifted awkwardly, and my mom's smile faltered. "What's going on?"

I prayed to God and all the gods I could think of, even the Norse ones, that my dad wouldn't say anything.

He began one of the worst conversations of my life gently and slowly, "There's something Hiccup and I need to talk to you about."

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 **A/N: OH MY GOD I PUT OFF THE TALK WITH VALKA AGAIN! What I keep trying to do is cram it into a chapter with a bunch of other stuff, and it never fits and works out. So, next chapter is ONLY THE SKYPE TALK! IT WILL HAPPEN, DON'T WORRY!**

 **Again, I'm going to correct any grammar or spelling mistakes I made later.**

 **Anyway, hope you enjoyed, please review!**

 **Published: December 20, 2015**


	13. Telling Mom

**A/N: Hopefully this is earlier than you were expecting. ;)**

 **So, I'm thinking of editing this story so that the characters would have modern names, except Hiccup would still have his nickname, but his birth name would be Hugo. Stoick would become Stanton (Stan for short), Valka would stay the same, Snotlout would become Scott, Fishlegs would become Felix, Ruff and Tuff would just have nicknames (their actual names wouldn't be revealed), and Astrid's name would stay the same. What do you guys think? Should I do that?**

 ** _ALSO_ , from this point on, there will be a lot of heavy stuff about Hiccup and his eating disorder, and eating disorders in general. As well as depression, anxiety, and OCD. I just want to warn you because I really don't want this story to trigger anyone or affect anyone in a negative way. MENTAL HEALTH IS JUST AS IMPORTANT AS PHYSICAL HEALTH.**

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 **Hiccup's POV**

"There's something Hiccup and I need to talk to you about."

 _God, that voice. Why does he have to say it like he's about to tell a little kid that their dog died or something?_

My mom, recognizing that somber tone he used when he was discussing something serious, knit her eyebrows with concern. "What? What's happened?"

I glared at my dad's shoes. I was so extremely mad at him. He knew that my mom was probably going to worry too much, why did he have to do this? Why couldn't we just not say anything? Why couldn't he have defended me at the clinic? Or not have made the appointments for the shrink and nutritionist? Or not have taken me to the doctor in the first place. Or defended me in front of the nurse. Or why did the nurse even have to weigh me? Or why couldn't Dagur just not have punched me that day? Why did I even have to open my big mouth in the first place, basically asking for a beating?

Why were there so many things in my life that I wished had happened differently?

"Well," my dad took a deep breath and I twiddled my fingers around nervously, "You know how Hiccup got into the fight at school?"

My mom nodded. "Yes, of course, that's how he got a black eye. What does this have to do with anything?"

I closed my eyes. _This is it, this is the worst moment of my life._

"The nurse at the school was concerned about Hiccup-"

"Something's wrong with him!?" My mom jumped in. I guess I got the interrupting trait from her as well as my dad.

"Valka, please," berated my dad. He continued, "The nurse was concerned by Hiccup's thin appearance, so she weighed him. When she talked to me she said that he was underweight and that I needed to take him to see his doctor."

Even though my head was bowed and my drooping hair kept my range of vision to the floor and mine and my dad's legs, I could feel my mom's shocked expression staring through the screen.

"What'd he say?" I cringed at her worried voice. _There's nothing to worry about, I'm fine. This is all just a huge misunderstanding._

"Well, Dr. Brown isn't at that office anymore, so he was looked over by someone different." I looked up a little to watch them.

"Why wouldn't they call us and tell us that when he left? He's been Hiccup's pediatrician for eight years," she sounded annoyed.

My dad nodded. "I know, I was upset about that too."

He was about to keep going, but my mom asked, "Wait, so he's already had an appointment?"

My dad nodded again. "This afternoon. The nurse was insistent that he needed to go as soon as possible."

My mom breathed a small "Oh", and my dad continued slowly, taking a deed breath before, "Anyway, Hiccup is five foot six and a half, but... he only weighs eighty-nine pounds, two pounds less than he weighed yesterday at school."

"God," my mom covered her mouth with her hand.

I had to speak up at that. "Um, actually, the nurse at the doctor's office said that weight fluctuates," I corrected, raising my eyebrows and trying to look confident that I was right.

" _Even so_ , son," my dad looked sternly down at me and I hunched down a little in my seat. I didn't dare look at my mom. "You're severely underweight and malnourished."

"Malnourished?" Questioned my mom, startled.

"He —the new pediatrician— said that Hiccup's body isn't getting enough nutrients."

She bit her lip. "What's causing it, do they know? How serious is it?"

My dad glanced at me before he slowly told her, "Uh, they're not exactly sure, they're going to run some blood tests and a urinalysis. Dr. Harris said that he doesn't think it's anything like cancer or something similar."

She looked worried, but a little relieved at his last sentence. "Oh, okay, that's good then. Do they think it's something wrong with his stomach or intestines? Do they not absorb enough food?"

They were doing it, the thing I hated most. Having a conversation as though I wasn't even there.

I voiced that. "You know, you could talk like I'm here too," I mumbled to my knees.

My mom looked at me, confused/ashamed. "Oh, I'm so sorry, love. I just... I want to know what's going on." Even though I couldn't see her hands onscreen, I could tell that she was wringing them in her lap. "I've always wondered if something was the matter with you, you've always been so small... I mean, I know that grandmother is quite short, so for a while I thought you'd inherited it from her, but... I've thought maybe it could've been because you were born premature, even though they say that if their aren't complications within a preemie's first year then everything will be fine with them from then on—"

"Valka," my dad stopped her anxious jabbering. Sometimes if my mom was nervous or worried about something, she would babble on until someone —like me or my dad— interrupted her and she snapped out of it. His eyes flicked to me before he resumed talking to her again. "He does have a... suspicion of what is most likely making him underweight."

I internally screamed. I wanted to run out of the room, out of the house, and keep running forever until I didn't have to think about anything ever again.

My mom's worry seemed to both decrease and increase, I could see that she was pleased that there was possibly a more definitive root of all that my dad had just described to her, but also afraid that it could be something terrible.

My dad reached under the table and tried to take my hand in his, but I wrenched mine away before he could take hold. It was too weird, he had never, ever tried to hold my hand before. Even when I was a kid and he'd cross the road with me, he'd grab my shoulder or upper arm instead. Or at least that's how I remembered it.

He looked down at me, anxiety in his eyes, and said, "Hiccup, would you like to tell her?"

I looked at him in surprise, and gave him a look that I intended to convey, _What the fuck, why? You're the one thinks I'm some sort of freaky anorexic! You tell her, that's what you wanted!_

Not that I thought people who had anorexia were freaks, I knew that it was a real illness and it sucked that those people had it, BUT _I_ WASN'T LIKE THAT! _I'm not!_

My dad flicked his eyebrows, saying, _Go ahead._

 _Dammit_ , I thought, _I shouldn't have said anything about how they were excluding me from the conversation, now he's punishing me._

My mom stared expectantly at me. I stared at my dad. "Um, w— why?"

He blinked softly. "I thought you wanted to explain your side of things."

I gulped. "I— no sides— I just— _ugh_ ," I buried my head in my hands in frustration and groaned. This all felt so surreal. _I don't have an eating disorder. I **don't**_ , I told myself over and over. _I've always been like this_.

 _Right?_

In the moment after I hung my head into my palms and before my mom spoke again, I had a mini-flashback of when I was younger, around twelve or thirteen. It was my grandfather's birthday, and we had gone downstate to celebrate with a bunch of other relatives (including Snotlout).

"What's going on, Hiccup?" Asked my mom frantically, startled by my behavior. "Stoick, tell me what's going on."

My dad sighed and put his hand on my knee. I pulled away and scooted across the chair and further away from him. He got the message and stopped trying to be "comforting" or whatever. "Well, after talking with Hiccup for a little while and examining him, Dr. Harris highly suspects that the cause—" I screamed, but the noise didn't leave my lungs and remained there, trapped inside the cage of my apparently-too-abnormal ribs. "—is unhealthy eating habits."

I prayed and begged to any almighty power that that would be the end of it. That my mom would just say "Oh, okay" and end the call, and my dad would cancel the appointments, and we'd just go on with our lives and nothing would change and become weird like it had. Of course, however, my luck allowed no such thing.

My mom didn't gasp or anything, she just blinked a few times in surprise and looked more concerned and baffled. "Wait, you mean, like... an eating disorder?"

 _FUCK!_

"No, that's not it! I don't- I'm not-" Nothing was going the way I wanted it to. Everything was happening so fast and out of my control.

My dad talked over me, "Something along those lines, yes."

I turned to him and my eyes bugged out with anger. "Dad!" I hissed. "You said that weren't going to say something like that!"

He clenched his jaw, more in annoyance than anything. "She asked, Hiccup, she has a right to know."

He had kept saying that and it had been so hard to argue. Yeah, sure, I guess she did deserve to know stuff about me, but not if what he was saying wasn't true!

"You promised, though." For some odd reason, I felt the sting of tears forming. I pushed them down, I was mad, not sad, I shouldn't have been crying. What the hell was up with my emotions?

"Look," he said, swallowing, and he turned to my mom, who looked horrified, "Okay, well— they—" _Since when does my dad stutter?_ "The most likely scenario is that Hiccup isn't eating enough and his food and meal habits are possibly disordered."

Somehow the fancy wording actually made it sound worse.

I expected my mom to freak out and start asking more questions, instead her eyes glassed over with something like regret, and she declared in a shaky, low voice, "I need to be home."

My dad, not realizing what she had meant (I didn't realize either), said regretfully, "I know, I wish you could be here, too."

Her eyes cleared and snapped up to meet my dad's, and gave a worried glance to me, and she announced, "No, I mean, I need to _come_ home."

My father frowned. "Val, what are you talking—"

She ran a trembling hand through her auburn hair. "I should never have come to Beijing, I should have said no when they offered it to me," she put her hand over her eyes, "Oh, God, this is all my fault," she mumbled shamefully. _No no no no no, please don't say that!_ It made me feel so guilty. She looked up, at me, then directly at my dad. "Stoick, I need to come home. I'll call the company and cancel this whole trip, I'll find a flight to New York as soon as I can—"

My dad's eyes widened in shock, as did mine. He looked at my mom as though she had lost her mind. "Valka, calm down, you can't possibly—"

She leaned forward and whisper-shouted at my dad, "Stoick, he's not eating! I've been worried a little bit a couple times, but I didn't think it could be something like this, or this serious!"

"I know, neither did I, Val! But that doesn't mean that you can just hop on plane and jeopardize your career!" countered my dad.

I jumped in. "Yeah, mom, I'm really fine! You don't need to come home, I'm okay," I pleaded. This wasn't how anything was supposed to happen. She was supposed to not believe my dad, defend me, and then my dad would cancel my ridiculous doctors' appointments and my mom come home in a couple months and everything would get better and be normal when she did.

My mom looked at me and knit her eyebrows with worry and concern. I could tell that she was analyzing me, looking at the lack of fat on my body, my bony shoulders, and was trying to guess what my ribs looked like under my clothing. I remember one time I overheard my mom talking to other moms (something she absolutely hated) at a school event about a year ago, and they were talking about how their "growing sons'" appetites, and how they ate so much. My mom responded with 'Oh, my son Hiccup is a bit of a picky eater.' I had felt a little annoyed about it, it seemed like another thing that set me apart from the others. _But that is the truth! I'm just a picky eater. But... sometimes there_ are _times where I do want to eat more— No, I don't, I eat fine, this is just my body type, it's how it is. Why won't people get that?_

"Hiccup," said my mom, her voice sounding strange, "You're sick, I should be there." _Dammit, more things hard to argue with._

"Valka, Hiccup may have a point," interjected my father, but he said it slightly grudgingly. "Well, he isn't okay, he's wrong about that," he looked down at me sadly, "but, there's no need for you to come back right now."

"But—"

"Val," he stopped her, "Listen to me. We have an appointment tomorrow with a nutritionist. I talked to him on the phone and I've looked him up online, he's a very well respected doctor. Hopefully he'll help get Hiccup on a healthy diet and gain weight." My mom nodded, urging him to say more. My dad glanced at me, and I tensed. "He also is going to go and talk to a therapist tomorrow, and we'll see if this even is an eating disorder or not." _Oh my God, did he actually just say something that kind of supports me?_

My mom rubbed her neck thoughtfully. "It might not even be an eating disorder? So they still don't know what it is! I need to be there, Stoick!"

"No, look," my father massaged his temple, "They're pretty sure that an eating disorder _is_ the cause—" _Shit_ "—but these appointments are just beginning steps, until we get a more definitive answer, you don't need to panic. I told you that he had blood drawn today, remember? Those tests will come back in a week. You don't need to fly back home on the first day we find out about any of this."

My mom was not deterred, however. If anything, she was more determined. "Stoick, I have to come home," she said firmly.

"Valka—"

"No, I _do_ need to be there. I need to be with you and Hiccup, and I need to be there to help him right now."

"Do you think I can't take care of him by myself?" asked my dad accusingly, but he sounded a bit hurt.

"Of course not!" said my mom quickly, realizing her mistake.

Meanwhile I was just sitting there, forced to stew in my own guilt because they were worried and agitated because of me.

"Stoick, now _you_ listen. I can call the head of my department and tell him I have a family emergency, they'll probably let me come home _and_ keep my job. Even if they didn't, even if they fire me, I don't care, I'll be able to be home!"

"Valka, you've worked sixteen years for your career, you can't just throw it away," he reasoned.

"He's right, mom, you love your job, don't lose it," I said, nervous that she would get in trouble with her bosses. And it would all be because of me.

My mom looked at me with... longing, maybe? "But I love you and your father more, Hiccup. If there's something wrong with you, love, it's my duty as your mother and as a parent to be there for you. Something..." She bowed her head shamefully, which sent a stab of guilt through my chest. "Something I haven't done well."

"Val," said my father, his voice drawing her head back up to reveal green eyes ringed slightly with red. "What I'm saying is that we need to think about this and work out a solution before you do anything impulsive."

It was weird to hear _him_ be the one to say those words, usually my mom was the voice of sanity, or I was. He was the one who'd threatened to file charges against my elementary school when a bully had beaten me up in the second grade and the school denied it had happened. My mom was the one who talked him down and called the parents of the kid (they also denied it) and then just let the issue drop. My mom was the talker... well, if that didn't work, she would just run away from the problem. Not like my dad, who would just confront it head on. My mom was the runner, my dad was the warrior. She was flight, he was fight.

My mom nodded a bit understandingly, but a bit reluctantly. She turned to me and smiled sadly. "Hiccup, could you just leave your father and I alone to talk for a little bit?"

My dad looked down at me. "Maybe you should just go to bed now, okay?"

I screwed up my eyebrows in confusion. "It's only nine thirty." I usually went to bed much later.

"I know, but, you've had a rough day, you need to get some rest," he said softly, combing his fingers through my ruffled hair.

I pushed his hand away. I hated this, his _concern_. "If I leave, you guys are just going to talk about me!"

My dad closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, we're going to—" He let his hand fall to his lap. "Just... go upstairs and get into bed, read you're book for a little while or play a game on that cellphone of yours, then."

I kept protesting. "No, you're gonna talk about the... _eating_ stuff."

"We may discuss your health, love," explained my mom softly, "But we're going try to figure out the quickest way that I can get home."

My dad pursed his lips, but he didn't say anything to my mom about not wanting her to to come home as quickly as possible. "Hiccup, just go to your room," he commanded in a strained voice, almost scarily serious.

I wanted to argue, but I knew I probably couldn't win anyway, and both my parents were staring at me with the 'We need to be left alone to have a conversation that doesn't involve you, but is definitely going to be about you' face, so I just rolled my eyes defiantly like I didn't care and stood up. "Fine," and I walked away, resisting the urge to look back and scowl.

When I climbed the stairs, I noticed how I felt light-headed a bit at the end and dark spots throbbed in my vision briefly. I also noticed that that was the way I'd felt for a while whenever I climbed stairs or exercised hard. The questions the doctor had asked me that day echoed in my mind: _'Do you ever feel fatigued, even if you've had a full night of sleep?' 'Have you felt dizzy at anytime? Like, if you walk up a flight of stairs, do you feel lightheaded once you reach the top?'_

I shook the thoughts away. _No, I'm just not athletic or good at exercising, I'm weak._

Toothless bounded down the hallway ahead of me into my room, and when I followed him in, he was jumping around on my bed crazily. I shooed him off and tossed a toy from off the floor to him, then while he was shaking it around I opened up my closet door and looked at my reflection in the mirror on the back of it.

At first glance? Translucent skin, my blue veins visible through it, my freckles contrasting with the paleness. Chicken legs with bony knees and straight, parallel thighs. Upper arms whose circumference didn't differ much from my wrists; when I wrapped my hand around my bicep my middle finger and thumb touched. A jaw bone that wasn't exactly sharp, or chiseled (which sounds attractive), but just prominent with no under-chin fat.

I took off my sweater and looked my ribs, but I closed the closet door before I let thoughts into my head. I quickly changed into my pajamas and brushed my teeth in my bathroom, ignoring the mirror over the sink.

My book was on the couch in the living room downstairs, so was my phone, and I really didn't want to go back down there to get them, so I just collapsed on my bed, considering just going to sleep. Although I would never admit it to my dad, I _was_ exhausted.

Toothless jumped up beside me and shook his toy in my face until I played with him. I scratched him playfully, his warm flank heating my chilly fingers. He looked at me with huge brown eyes that said 'I understand you, human.'

 _At least someone does_ , I thought.

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 **A/N: Next chapter will be up on February 1st! The whole thing will be an Astrid POV! I'm finding it easier to write her instead of Hiccup, because with him, there's a ton of complex emotions that even** _ **I**_ **haven't figured out yet, but with Astrid... I don't know, I like writing her. She's a great character, she always seems as though she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.**

 **Please review! ;D**

 **Published: January 16th, 2016**


	14. Astrid

**A/N: I actually kept a promise on when I would update! I'm kinda proud of myself...**

 **More edits to this story are happening! I know, I really don't seem like I have my shit together, and that's 'cause, well, I don't. So, anyway, I'm going have Hiccup having to go the doctor and the fight at school and every chapter that's happened after the chapter 'Tryouts' to take place about two weeks after that chapter, just so Astrid and Hiccup will have known each other for a bit of a longer time. I'll edit that in sometime in the next few days.**

 **I'm trying to give Astrid's POVs a different writing style than Hiccup's. I don't know how it'll work out, my writing style is all over the place anyway, maybe I shouldn't meddle too much...**

 **Lots of exposition here ↓**

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 **Astrid's POV**

I walked away from the Haddock residence with my face burning and my stomach fluttering.

 _Did I really just kiss Hiccup Haddock?_

Even though I had only known him for barely three weeks, I had heard plenty about him from other people ever since I brought him to Ruff and Tuff's party. Most of it was just 'Oh, Astrid, that Hiccup kid is weird, why are you hanging around him?' or simply 'Why the fuck are you friends with him?'

There really is a hierarchy to high school, no matter what people say about all of that stereotypical stuff fading out. Maybe not so much a hierarchy, but a spectrum. And Hiccup and I were far away on that spectrum, with me being closer to the top and him definitely below.

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be a pretentious asshole. I know I've seemed like one in the past, especially during freshman year. I'm not going to lie, I did enjoy the attention I got after I lead the Senior volleyball team to winning State. And since girls' volleyball was the only team in our school that made it that far in any conference, I was known especially well. And I didn't just like it because I was in the newspaper and once or twice got to give a statement to a reporter, but other girls on the team — even the ones older than me — and on other teams admired and looked up to me. I was respected as a leader, and that feeling may have been one of the best I've ever experienced.

Unfortunately, though, there's always a curse to a gift. This next year, I was again chosen to be captain, and although I was excited to lead the team again, I was feeling a lot of pressure. I was determined to get just as far we did last year, but I felt like if we didn't, it would all be my fault.

I did work insanely hard the previous year during the season, going home after practices and practicing two hours extra in my backyard, analyzing the other teams techniques and strategies, sometimes going to the games of two teams that we would be facing later, just to try and be prepared. I was also spending all my free time studying because my parents were expecting me to get all A's.

Unfortunately, though, geometry that year required much more time than I had, and I got a B- for the first quarter of the year. Volleyball only lasted until the end of that quarter of the school year, though, so my grade was better the rest of the year. However, since I didn't understand a few things that I hadn't spent enough, I was still a little behind, which I hated. For the second semester, I got an A-, but in the first one, I averaged a B+, which eliminated my ambition of getting all A's in high school, and my parents' expectations as well. My mom was especially disappointed, so she actually called the school's guidance counselor and told her to find me a tutor. And that's how I met Hiccup.

I really was doing just fine in math, I had a ninety-seven percent, and I probably didn't even need his help after the first session. I kept with it, though, because _1._ my mom wouldn't have let me stop that soon, anyway, and _2._ I sort of... enjoyed spending time with Hiccup. I know this sounds incredibly corny, but I got a good (for lack of a better word) _vibe_ from him. I'd never spent time with someone like him before, and it was a fresh, soothing break.

It was quite a nice change from my basketball-playing boyfriend in the second semester of ninth grade. And the guy I went on a couple dates with this past summer at Ruff's insistence. She changed her opinion on him when he tried to feel me up in the front seat of his car, _while Ruff and Heather were in the back._

Anyway, I was done with it, the bullshit of people who flip-flopped between being my friends and being dicks. For example, Heather. When I met her, I didn't trust her at all. She had stolen my math notes and used them on an open-notes test while I was left with nothing to use. After she'd talked to me for a little while, I'd felt kind of bad for her (she was a new student and didn't really know anybody). Ruff and I brought her in, in a sense, but even though we were a trio of friends, there were times where Ruff and I got sick of her. She could sometimes be nice and consoling, and then she'd be a total bitch. I was glad that I had cut her off after the Thorstons' party, I felt freer. In hindsight, slapping her in the face was maybe a little over-the-top, but oh, well.

Unfortunately, Heather had a lot of connections from years of flirting, so she got a lot of my not-as-close-as-Ruff friends to abandon me and stay with her. Thankfully, she didn't know the girls from volleyball, so they didn't go against me, and my team remained united.

I actually found that I didn't really care what my old friends thought of me. The way I viewed it, I now knew who I shouldn't have even been friends with in the first place. I liked my new group: Ruff, Fishlegs, Hiccup, and occasionally Tuffnut (although he was still hanging out with Snotlout a lot, who was dating Heather).

It's very complicated.

But, I guess, looking back on it all, things weren't as complicated as they were about to become.

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I walked through the back door into my kitchen, where my parents were at the table, my mom on her laptop and my dad going through work papers. They both looked up when I came, reading glasses perched on their noses making them look like a pair of startled bugs.

"Astrid," my mom greeted, "how was your bike ride?"

I shrugged, still walking across the kitchen towards the stairs. "Okay, it's starting to colder out, I should've worn a jacket," I said, keeping my response vague and to the early October weather. I wasn't going to say anything about seeing Hiccup, let alone kissing him. All my parents really knew about him was that he was my tutor, and if they knew that we, uh... _liked_ each other they would probably want to interrogate him and/or would never let me be alone with him during appointments. It was kind of ridiculous, how suspicious they were of my friends, but then they didn't even know how rebellious Ruff was. I was good at deceiving people.

"Where are you going?" asked my dad, eyes flicking between his papers and me.

I jerked my thumb towards the stairway. "Upstairs to get my volleyball. I'm gonna practice outside a little before I go to bed," I explained, then took a few steps more.

"Wait," my mom stopped me and I turned back. She pursed her lips. "Is your homework done?"

"Yeah, I always have it done, like, before five o'clock every day."

She closed-lipped smiled at me. "That's great. I'm glad you're doing better this year."

At least she wasn't making me show the finished lesson to her. That had been a new development this school year, she had been making me prove to her that I was done.

She went back to tapping away at her computer and I climbed away up the stairs two at a time. Before I could get to my room, I was interrupted by my two brothers barreling down the hallway and I had to press myself against the wall to avoid being trampled. They giggled as they stomped down the stairs, spinning in different directions to shoot each other with Nerf guns. _Ah, to be eight again._

I disappeared into the bathroom junction that lead to my room just after hearing my dad's voice saying, "Pick those foam pieces up when your done, boys!"

I rolled my volleyball out from under my bed, the one my parents bought me for Christmas last year, and went back downstairs and out the door, shutting it a split second after my mom's, "Don't stay out there for too long!"

I pulled my phone and earbuds out from my pocket as I walked over to our stone garage. I put the headphones into my ears and spiked the ball against the wall, letting it bounce back to me and catching it. I didn't play any music, though, I never listened to songs while practicing, it distracted me too much from full focus on my technique.

Except I guess I was breaking the rule of no distraction that night by calling Ruff and using the microphone of the earbuds to talk. I hit the ball against the side of the garage as it rang.

Spike... Spike... Serve... Set, set, set... Bump... Spike... Bump... Bump... I tried to hit the same spot each time.

"Astrid!" Chortled the telephoned-voice of Ruff Thorston, slightly out of breath. "How goes it?"

"Hey, Ruff," I responded, performing a less than perfect bump and furrowing my brow in concentration of both the ball and what I was going to say.

"Practicing?" she asked, recognizing the sound of leather on stone from the times she had seen me practice or heard me when I made phone calls like this one.

"Yeah," I said, setting the ball in place, "Why are you out of breath?"

"I was doing the same as you, but probably not as intense." She was probably smirking.

Ruff and I were both hard practicers of our sports, my volleyball and her lacrosse, except she was a bit less religious at it than I was. She was trying harder this year, though, she had made it onto the varsity team, but I still out-worked her by miles.

"Um, anyway, I gotta tell you some stuff." I bit my lip uncertainly, unsure how Ruff would react. It wasn't like I really cared what she thought, and I wasn't desperate for approval or anything, I was just... curious for an opinion from one of the people I trusted the most.

"Lay it on me, my sister from another mister."

Set, bump.

"So, I went for a bike ride tonight, and I saw Hiccup."

"Oh, is he okay? Fish has been asking me about him."

"Why doesn't he just text him himself?"

"You know him, he's so fucking nice he wouldn't dare get into someone's personal business."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I commented.

"No— I don't... just, get on with what you were gonna say." I could almost _hear_ her blushing. Ruff _never_ blushed.

I sighed. "So, Hiccup was walking his dogs, and I, like... he invited me to walk with him, so I did. He went to the doctor, and all he told me was that his doctor just said he was sleep deprived and I guess that's why he fainted that one time and he always looks so tired."

"Than that's good, right? He not injured or anything."

I spun the ball around in my hands for a moment. "Yeah, but, I don't know, it seemed like he was hiding something and there was something more." Spike... Bump... Bump.

"Since when do you care so much about what people do?" she scoffed.

"It was just weird." I paused, considering telling Ruff about seeing Hiccup's bone-thin chest in the nurse's office. "Um..." _Fuck it, I want someone's opinion_. The thought shocked me, because usually the only opinions I cared about were my own, or maybe my coach's. "When Hiccup got beat up by Dagur, I went to the nurse's with him."

"Yeah, you told me."

"So, um, when the nurse checked to see if his ribs were fractured or anything, I saw his chest—"

"God, Astrid, is this going to turn into an over-long description of his hot-only-to-you chest?"

"Shut up, Ruff," I snapped.

"Sorry," her tone sobered.

I sighed. "Anyway... he's— he's _really skinny_ , Ruff. I mean, like, he's looks like a skinny kid anyway, but... Under his clothes he looks really, _really_ thin. I could count his ribs 'cause they stood out so much, and his hipbones are really stuck out. He doesn't look like just some late bloomer or scrawny nerd, he looks... _sick_ or something." I wasn't even hitting the volleyball anymore, just staring at the garage wall as I talked. "I think he's underweight, definitely less weight than me," I finished quietly.

My best friend was silent for a moment. "So... what do you think?"

I spiked the ball forcefully. "I don't know, I'm kinda asking you."

"Well, _is_ he sick? Maybe he has cancer or something..."

I shook my head, even though it was a phone call and she couldn't see me. "No, we'd probably know if he had cancer, and he probably wouldn't be in school if he had a disease like that."

"So, maybe it's genetic."

"Have you seen his parents? They both look they could've been pro basketball players," I snorted, but nervously, because it did puzzle me, how two tall fit people had someone as small as Hiccup.

"Maybe it's recessive or something. Or he'll hit a late growth-spurt."

"I told you," I said, "He doesn't look like a late-growth-spurt kind of person. He looks like... a doesn't-eat-enough person," my worried thought fell off my tongue, and I feared that I shouldn't have said it.

"Don't jump to the conclusion that he's some sort of fucked-up eater. He could still have some kind of medical-thingy."

I rolled my shoulders. "Yeah, I— I shouldn't have said that. It's— it could be some... condition he's always had, and maybe I'm just noticing because I'm spending time with him," I rethought my worries, but they were still there, because it would suck for him if he actually _did_ have an illness that made him look like skin and bones. _Bones, like a skeleton_.

"I could ask Fish," said Ruff curiously, "He's known Hiccup for a long-ass time, right? Maybe he knows."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Yeah, okay. Just don't ask it really directly, I don't wanna get into Hiccup's personal stuff that he doesn't want me to know or anything—"

"Jesus, Hofferson," interjected Ruff, " _You're_ caring about shoving your nose places? What the hell has happened to you?"

I could tell she was joking around to try and lighten the mood, but it struck me like an ice cube sliding down my shirt against my skin, and I answered, "I've grown up... more. What about you, you're all different now, too, what's your excuse."

She responded quietly, "Same as you, I guess."

Serve... Bump... Bump... Bump, bump... _Spike_.

"There's something else," I said, moving onto to the other thing I had intended to tell her.

"What?"

"So, I went on a walk with Hiccup."

"Uh-huh."

"And we stopped in front of his house and said goodnight and stuff."

"Uh-huh."

"I— we were just kinda standing there, holding the dogs' leashes, and he was being all awkward, y'know, like Hiccup, and he was stuttering and complimenting me and stuff, and... I don't know, I just... so, I don't know if I should have done this, I kinda just jumped forward at him, and— uh, put my mouth on his mouth." _Holy crap_ , I thought, _maybe that kid's goddamn stammering is contagious_.

On the other end of the call, Ruff snorted out a laugh that sounded like a choking pig.

I pursed my lips. "I see that it amuses you," I said sardonically.

"Ha! You made out with him!"

"I did not _make out_ with him! We just kissed, that's all," I defended.

"How long?" she asked, still bemused.

I made a frustrated noise in the back of throat. "Ugh... um, ten— seconds, maybe twelve," I admitted.

"Let me guess, he passed out from the shock of his first touch from the opposite gender," she cackled, all seriousness from before apparently lost.

"Ruff, please, shut up," I sighed, shaking my head in annoyance.

"How was it?" she asked, cruelly curious.

"It was— well, he was kind of freaked out at first, but then he sort of got into it and, he wasn't all that bad."

"How far did it go? Any groping?"

"God, Ruff, no. What the hell's the matter with you?" I gagged. "We just kissed, _that's all_ ," I repeated.

"Not even any Frenching?"

"No, no tongue." I hadn't even thought of slipping in tongue with Hiccup, he'd looked so shocked already I'd felt like if I'd done even more he would've had a heart attack. I had actually been able to feel his pulse through his wrist when I gave Skullcrusher's leash back to him, and his heart had been going _crazy_ fast. It had been really jumpy, too...

"I'm so disappointed, Astrid," she said, mocking crestfallen.

"Hey, there was a little open-mouthness," I defended. "And also, I thought you hated all that stuff, men taking over women and getting all over them the first time they kiss," I said, remembering when she basically broke with Caleb (my basketball-playing boyfriend from ninth-grade) for me when he tried to do that to me.

"Oh, yeah, I hate it when guys do that. However, when _women_ get to do it to them..." she trailed off, and I could tell she was probably bearing a jaunty smile.

I sighed. Unfortunately, Ruff did like to do that —she was more confident and secure in her body than anyone I knew— but it sometimes backfired and left her feeling like shit.

"Anyway," I said, "I just... He's easy to be around, and I really like him—"

"Obviously."

"—and I just hope he's okay, and nothing's wrong with him."

Ruff was silent for a moment. "I'll text Fish right now and I can tell you what he says."

"Okay, thanks," I said, then I rethought. "Actually, wait, don't."

"Why?"

"I— I just think it would be better if I asked him. Tomorrow."

"Hiccup?"

"No, Fishlegs. I'll ask him about Hiccup tomorrow, in person."

"Oh, okay. Hey, is Hic coming to your game Saturday night?"

"Uh," I bit my lip uncertainly. I had avoided asking Hiccup to either of my volleyball games this year, and he didn't complain or anything, he just wished me good luck before each one and congratulated me on winning after. "I haven't asked him."

"Ashamed of him or something?"

"No, of course not. I... I'm gonna ask him to come, I am."

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 **Friday, October 3**

I stepped out of the shower at 6:45, toweling my hair and studying myself in the mirror. The abs across my stomach were becoming firmer with volleyball season, which pleased me because over the summer I had let myself go soft a little. Most of the practice had been joking-around games with the volleyball nets on the beach of Zippleback Lake.

My eyes scrolled around my closet and I half-payed attention as I picked out a blue sweater, jeans, and some combat boots. I pulled on the hem of my sweater as I double-checked myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom, and readjusted my silver necklace of a Norse shield knot. My grandmother, who had been born in Norway, had given it to me for my eight birthday. The shield knot was a symbol of protection, and was meant to ward off harm. The chain was thick enough that I never worried it would snap, and feeling the pendant rest against my collarbone gave me a sensation of safety whenever I wore it, which was all the time.

I did my hair in a quick ponytail and used a brown stretchy headband to keep my over-grown bangs off my face. I put on a quick layer of powder foundation (the only makeup I cared to wear), then sauntered down into the kitchen. My parents were at the kitchen table, in the same position as last night, my dad drinking coffee and my mom sipping one of her complicated latte drinks.

"'morning," I said, pouring myself a cup of plain black coffee and leaning against the counter to drink it.

My mom looked up. "Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Will you be ready to go soon?"

She frowned. "What's the big hurry?"

I sighed and glanced at the clock: _7:10_. "I have a team meeting at 7:25."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, right!" She quickly finished her latte and stood. "Let's go."

I grabbed a bagel on the way out and we climbed into our Jeep. As we pulled out of our driveway and started down the street, I looked over at Hiccup's house and was reminded that I needed to ask Fishlegs about him. My mom tried to ask me about how school was going, but I told her I was tired and didn't really want to talk. During the ten minute drive to the high school, I formulated what I was going to say to Fishlegs.

We pulled in front of Berk High and I undid my seatbelt. "Bye, mom," I said, picked up my backpack off the car floor and putting a hand on the door handle.

My mom leaned over and gave me a one-armed hug. "Bye, Astrid, I love you. I'll pick you up at four-thirty after practice."

"I love you, too."

The team meeting didn't take long. Coach Moore just went over our strategies and techniques for Saturday's game, I had to give a little pep talk, then we all chatted for about ten minutes for "team bonding".

At 7:55 I was at my locker. I scanned down the hallway of the sophomore lockers, but I didn't see Hiccup anywhere. _Weird, he usually rides the bus and gets here pretty early_. I did see Ruff and Fishlegs, though. She was telling off a tall junior and shoving him away while Fish stood behind her awkwardly, hugging his book to his chest. By the time I made my way over, the older boy was gone and Ruff was teasing Fishlegs flirtatiously.

"And how was I supposed to chase that guy off?" Fish was saying. "He was at least five inches taller than me and had approximately three times my muscle mass."

"You could have scared him away with your supreme knowledge of pond scum," smiled Ruff, then she spotted me. I gave her a subtle, meaningful look and she returned one, understanding what I was telling her. She pushed away from the wall she had been leaning against and started walking away. "Anyway, gotta get to class."

Fishlegs looked at his watch. "The bell rings in five minutes, and your class is only right up those stairs."

Ruff continued walking away backwards and said before spinning around, "I gotta be on time."

Fishlegs frowned and looked after her. "She's _never_ punctual," he said mostly to himself, then turned to me, "Does she... Astrid, do think she likes— I mean, your her best friend, do you know if she—?"

"She likes you, Legs," I said, cutting off his frantic mumbling.

He went beet red. "R— really? Y— you think so?"

"I have something to ask you." My serious tone must've shocked him out of his lovestruck daze and his face went back to normal and his sentences became coherent again.

"What is it?"

"It's about Hiccup," I said, still not sure how to phrase my question. "Has— is he okay?"

"I haven't talked to him since he got beat up by Dagur—"

"No," I interrupted. "Not like that. I mean, is he... sick?"

Fishlegs eyebrow furrowed. "Do you mean, does he have a chronic medical condition?"

I sighed in relief. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

He squinted. "I'm not 100% sure if he does. He does seem to weigh a significant amount less than the average fifteen-year-old, and he is rarely successful in performing any kind of strenuous physical activity."

 _Damn it, I hate it when he never knows for sure_. "Has he always been like this?"

"Actually, no. He seems to have remarkably less energy than he had in middle school, or in ninth grade. I've thought it is due to the stress and anxiety of adolescence that many pubescent teens commonly experience."

"Say that like a normal person." Even though I understood perfectly what he said, I just wanted to see if he could do it.

He frowned in concentration. "Being a teenager is stressful, and maybe that's why he's changed since eighth grade. Also, his mom is away a lot more."

"Thanks, Fish," I said, then started to walk away.

"Wait, Astrid, why are you asking?"

I came back next to him. "I saw him last night, and he says he's okay and that he just has a bruise around his eye, but... I don't know, something felt off. It just made me notice how tired he always seems. I... it just worried me."

Fishlegs nodded. "It's easy to worry about Hiccup."

The bell suddenly rang, and on that enigmatic note, he hurried off to class, leaving me even more confused.

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 **A/N: This used to be two shorter chapters, but I combined them into one so that I wouldn't have two very short chapters amidst some longer ones.**

 **Published: February 1, 2016**


	15. Hiding It

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Another update within a month! *crowd starts cheering* I know that it's still a really long time, but I'm trying as hard as I can, please stick with me!**

 **Also, I have had some people telling me that they don't like the Astrid POVs, and I did have a significant drop in views for her chapters, so I'm mainly going to stick to Hiccup POVs from now on. I will throw in some other character's POVs once in a while, just to show their thoughts and emotions, but I'll try to stay mostly to Hiccup.**

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 **Hiccup's POV - Friday, October 3**

I sat at the table and stared at the back of my dad's head as he worked over the stove to prepare breakfast. I glanced up at the clock: _7:30_. I would usually be on the bus on my way to school right now, but my dad insisted on driving me after he made me eat something.

"You know," I said, speaking up, "I don't even like eggs, dad, and now I might be late for school."

He didn't even turn around, but his shoulders moved up and down in a deep breath. "Protein, Hiccup, it's good for you."

Starting at the nurse's office on Wednesday, everyone had been telling me what was "good for me".

A plate piled with scrambled eggs and bacon was set down in front of me, along with a glass of orange juice. My dad sat down at what was now going to be the routine spot across from me. "I don't think I can eat all that," I told my dad honestly, gesturing to the food.

He swallowed a large forkful of eggs and looked thoughtfully at my plate. "Eat as much as you can, then. At least half," he bargained.

 _Half. Okay, I can eat that._ I took a bite and a sip of juice and said, "Alright, good." I glanced up at him. "I can't eat the same huge breakfast you eat dad, it would make me explode." _Also, you're like four times my size_ , I wanted to say, but didn't.

He analyzed what I had said and asked me, "What do you... usually eat for breakfast, son?" He asked cautiously. "I never really see you eat in the morning."

 _Because you've never payed attention_ , I almost blurted, but he would get upset, and I hated making him upset. "Just normal stuff, like cereal," I said, annoyed. I wanted to put the word _normal_ in there.

He was quiet, he probably didn't know what to talk to me about. He flipped open a page on today's paper, and, without looking up at me, said in a slightly warning tone, "Dr. Greene will be asking you about what you eat, Hiccup, and how much of it, and your eating habits."

 _Dr. Greene? Oh, right, the stupid nutritionist._ "You could still cancel the appointments, dad," I said, still trying to wriggle my way out of this mess, "See, I'm eating just fine," I proved, taking another bite of breakfast. I was a quarter way through, but I was almost full.

My dad's mouth tightened into a thin white line in between his beard and mustache. He set his fork down and looked right at me with determined eyes. "Hiccup," he said in a trembling voice, "there's no point in you doing this, _you are going to these doctors today_ , and there is no way you are avoiding it."

Instead of anger, or even fear, I was filled with hate. I would've shouted, _I hate_ _you_ , and ran off, but I knew it would sound and look pathetically childish. I did, though, I hated him _so much_ right then. "Fine," I clipped the word short and tried to pack it full with as much fuck-you-I-don't-care attitude as possible, "but you're going to regret it when you have to pay for a couple of quacks telling you nothing but the truth, there's nothing wrong with me."

I shoveled large bites of food in my mouth until the plate was three-quarters of the way clean, just to show him how wrong he was. I stood up and left the table without looking at him, but out of the corner of my eye I saw that he was looking at me. His eyes were sad, and hurt, like Toothless's when I accidentally stepped on his paw or tail.

 _Can't I say anything right?_

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My dad didn't talk to me until we got to school at 7:45, he just stared fixedly out at the road. That whole morning I had been wanting to ask him what he and my mom had talked about after I had gone to my room last night, but I was afraid that he would talk more about the ridiculous "eating disorder" stuff. I also didn't want to upset him any more than I had at breakfast.

We pulled up at the student drop-off area and I avoided his gaze. Just as I turned around to close the car door, he said, "I'll be here at noon, the office will call you down and then we'll go, okay?"

"Yep," I mumbled, then slammed the car door and started walking toward the school doors, not looking back. I went straight to my locker, ignoring people's glances at my black eye (which was now starting to fade down to a yellowy-green color), and leaned into the open, small metal closet.

 _I should not have eaten that much_ , I thought, and moaning quietly out loud. My tiny stomach was stretched past it's full capacity and was giving me stinging cramps and bloated pain that seemed to travel all the way up my throat, plus my gut was a huge tangle of nerves about the appointments later. _I think I'm gonna puke_. I quickly stuffed everything I needed for first hour into my backpack and sped toward the bathroom. _I **am** gonna puke._

There were a ton of boys in the large high school bathroom and I squeezed through them to get to the last stall at the end of the row. I dropped my backpack to the floor and hunched over the toilet, my arms hugging my stomach.

 _No, please, I don't want to throw up, please_ , I pleaded with my gut to calm down, but it only got worse. My emotional nausea overtook my senses and I braced my arms against the sides of the cubicle as my eggs and bacon traveled up my throat and into my mouth. I tried to keep it down, but it still came out and spewed into the already-gross school toilet. Thankfully, the bathroom was already noisy and no one heard. The last thing I needed was to get dragged to the nurse's office again.

My arms shook and my head fell forward on my weak neck. I hated vomiting. Other than the previous night, I hadn't puked in a long time. All the stress of the doctors' appointments and my mom wanting to leave her job to come home and my dad being suddenly worried about me was contorting my body into a sea of anxiety. I used some toilet paper to wipe stray vomit off the toilet and flushed it all away in a swirl of yellow, brown, and white. I sat down on the now-clean seat and held my head in my hands.

 _Why is this_ _happening? I hate my life, I hate myself, I hate all of this_.

I leaned up against the side of the stall and let tears drip down my face until the bell rang.

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The bell for lunch rang and I reluctantly stood up from my desk. Even though Spanish wasn't my favorite class, I would've gladly stayed in there for all eternity if it meant I wouldn't have to go with my dad when he picked me up in fifteen minutes.

I was hurrying down the hallway toward the library, where I had decided to spend the remaining time until my dad picked me up, when I felt a hand grab my arm and I spun around. "Oh, h— hi Astrid." To tell the truth, I had kind of been avoiding her that morning. I had seen her on way to science from math, and she had had the same worried face she had when asking me about my doctor's appointment the night before. I was afraid it meant either 1) she wanted to ask me more about it, or 2) she regretting kissing me and wanted to break up with me. I had continued down the hall and pretended as though she was invisible.

She frowned and dropped my arm. "Hiccup, are you avoiding me?"

 _Christ, can she read minds?_ I turned to her and said in a panic, "No, of course not! Why would you think that?"

She shrugged. "I don't— sorry, I looked for you this morning, I didn't see you."

I swallowed. "Oh, uh, sorry, I was... turning in the work I missed."

Her face cleared and she nodded. "Oh, that makes sense..."

Before I could ask her anything about The Kiss, she continued, "So, are you still leaving right now?"

"Uh, yeah, my, uh, my dad's picking me up at noon." _Please don't ask if I'm okay, please don't ask if I'm okay..._

Her frown came back. "Are you okay?"

 _Why does God hate me?_

I nodded nonchalantly. "Yeah, of course, I'm fine," I lied.

"Then why—," she stopped herself, "um, and I can still come over to your house at five for tutoring?" She was acting really weird.

I nodded again. "Uh-huh." Then I remembered how my therapist appointment ended at five. "Oh, wait," I said, "Can you come over like, ten or fifteen minutes later?" _Please don't ask why._

She chewed the inside of her cheek, but thankfully didn't ask. "Okay, yeah, that's cool. My practice ends at four thirty, so that gives me time to take a shower and I won't stink when I come over."

 _You could smell like a thousand farts and I wouldn't care_ , I thought silently, but said jokingly, "Yeah, don't come transfer your sweat smell into my pristine bedroom." She smiled and laughed, having been in my definitely-not-clean bedroom several times before and knowing I was kidding about her odor after practice.

"Hey," she said, "If you don't smell like an armpit after a sports practice, you're practicing the wrong way."

I chuckled, then frowned and looked to the floor.

"What's wrong?" She asked, bending her neck down to try and look me in the eye.

"Um," I started, not looking up, "I was just— about last night... just, um, why?"

I could see her cheeks flush red in my peripheral vision. "W— what do you mean, 'why?'"

"I— why me? Why _me_?" I mumbled.

She sighed. "Hiccup, I've told you, I like you, that's— and when people like other— I just— Do _you_ like _me_?"

 _Since I met you._ "Of course I do."

She stuck her hand under my chin and lifted my face up. She looked at my eyes with concern and affection. "Then stop complaining," and she leaned in and kissed me lightly on the cheek, not even caring that this was a public place and there were people swarming down the hallway all around us.

I blushed, startled, embarrassed, and flattered all at the same time. "Um..." I didn't know what to say.

"One thing, Hiccup," she said, raising an eyebrow, "Whenever _this_ happens, you need to stop looking like I slapped you." She smiled at me in a slightly patronizing way.

My mouth opened, but no words came out, and then, as though someone else was taking control of my body, I quickly kissed her on her cheek. It was probably really dumb-looking and awkward and I knew it, but her smile just got bigger. "That's a little more like it."

"Um— I gotta... library— I'm gonna library... I mean, I'm gonna go to—"

She put her hand over my mouth to shut me up and I went cross-eyed to look at her fingers on my face. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in mock-dissappointment. "I know what you're saying, you've got to go to the library now. First, I need to ask you something."

"Bwhut?" I asked through silenced lips, and she took down her hand.

"So, I have a volleyball game tomorrow night, do you wanna come?"

"Do you— do you want me to?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't have asked you."

I tried not to let my face lighting up show. "Okay, yeah, I'll be there!" Then my face fell slightly. "I just... have to ask my dad, though."

She nodded. "I understand. I hope to see you there, though. I'll see you later, five-fifteen, your house." She walked away from me and I waved goodbye.

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" _Hiccup Haddock, you are dismissed to the office. Hiccup Haddock, dismissed to the office_ ," said the stupid, crackling loudspeaker.

My hand froze in the middle of writing a sentence of my English homework and I closed my eyes, holding my breath for a moment. _Maybe if I just stay here in the library they won't even notice and I won't have to go_. I knew the wish was futile, though, so I stood and gathered up my things unenthusiastically.

I made an intentionally long stop at my locker to get my other homework, then slowly walked down the halls to the office. I passed the cafeteria on my way there and glanced inside. Astrid, Ruffnut, and Fishlegs were sitting at the end of one of the long tables, deep in conversation about something I didn't know, and it made me even more angry at my dad. It was all his fault that I wasn't sitting in there with them, being part of the group I'd never had before.

He was sitting in one of the waiting chairs in the secretary's part of the office, and he stood up when I entered. I looked at him quickly, then diverted my eyes to the ground.

"You're signed out, so, here we go." He sounded nervous, but not nearly as much as I was.

We walked out to the car in silence. "Where do you want to go for lunch?" He asked in a testing voice as we pulled out of the parking lot onto the road.

I shrugged, not looking at him. "I dunno, you choose," I muttered.

We ended up going to a small restaurant just outside of the metropolitan part of town. I remembered going to it a few times with my parents a couple years ago. I ordered a BLT sandwich, which I ate half of under my dad's judgmental eye. He tried to ask me about my school day, but gave vague answers while ignoring him and he stopped. He payed the bill and we got back in the car, silent and unspeaking for the first five or ten minutes of the drive.

"Hiccup," he broke the spell as we turned on to 32nd Street downtown.

"What?" I snapped, glaring out the window at the passing people and buildings.

"I know... I know you're angry with me, but please, son, you need to understand that this is for your own good, it's to help you be healthy."

Something inside me snapped. "No, it's not, it's because you all think I'm a freak and you want to send me off to shrinks and doctors who you hope will make me less of an embarrassment to you. Stop being so damn condescending about it."

For half a second the only sound was his inhale. "Son," I nearly flinched from his tone, "You need help, and your mother and I want you to be healthy because we love you, _you are not_ an embarrassment, you never have been. But you _are_ underweight and sick, and I don't want anything to happen to you. I care about you, and so does your mom."

"You guys think I'm crazy." I wasn't even looking outside anymore, I had my eyes focused on the glass of the window, the barrier that was entrapping me in this hell which was our truck. Everything he had just said made me feel so guilty, even though I still didn't really believe him.

"We do not think you're crazy, Hiccup."

"You're forcing me to go to a shrink," _because you think I'm all mentally fucked-up and have some freak food disorder._

"Dr. Harris advised you to talk to her, I'm going to follow that advice."

"But—"

" _Hiccup_ , we're not going to talk about this again, do you understand?" The steel was back in his voice, and I was almost more comfortable with that than the gooey, lovey shit that had been coming out of his mouth before. I still wanted to argue, but I didn't know how, so I was just silent for the rest of the ride.

"Okay..." he mumbled, glancing at the business card in his hand, then turning down one more street and slowing down at a parking garage next to a many-story building with the words _West Cowell Park Offices_ on it.

I picked at my fingernails angrily and my dad payed the tollbooth person and drove up to a parking spot on the third floor. When he opened his door and started to get out, I remained staring at my hands in my lap, unmoving. _I don't want to go, I don't want to do this, please, please, please..._

"Hiccup, we have to go in now," he commanded, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second before I made my hand open the door and my legs climb out of the truck.

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My knee jumped up and down nervously as I kept my head down but glanced around at the people in the waiting room. The place wasn't very busy, probably because it was the middle of a work/school day, and there were only four other people waiting to see a nutritionist.

I looked up at the pictures on the wall. There were five doctors in the clinic, Greene Living Nutrition (how freaking corny is that?), and because of the little plaque underneath each portrait photo, I already knew what Dr. Greene — who I was going to be seeing — looked like.

I guess he looked like what you'd think a nutritionist would look like, an athletic-type guy who appeared to be keeping in shape and counteracting the effects of being in his late forties, with sandy-blonde hair already turning salt-and-peppery at the temples and a receding hairline. His smile in the picture was wide and white, seemingly genuine, but with some of that fake "I'm smiling because I'm having a picture of me taken" quality to it.

My dad sat in the chair next to me, glancing at his watch every few minutes, and his foot was tapping up and down in a way similar to my twitching knee, but I couldn't tell if his fidgeting was from nervousness (like me), impatience, or anger.

"Hiccup Haddock?" My head snapped up towards the receptionist behind the open glass window of the desk she sat at. She gave my dad and I a warm smile that I could only return with the look of a deer caught in headlights. "Dr. Greene is ready to see you," she leaned forward and pointed to a wooden door to her left, "His office is right through there, down the hall, third door on the left."

My dad nodded and stood up, motioning with his eyes for me to do the same. My knees trembled unsteadily as I got up from the chair and followed behind him the way a cowering dog in shame would. We stopped in front of the door the receptionist had directed us too. The little sign on it said _Dr._ _Joseph Greene_. My dad glanced down at me, and I gave him one last _please don't make me do this_ look, and then he knocked on the door.

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 **A/N: Haha I'm an asshole I accidentally put off the two appointments for another chapter... Anyway, this chapter is just kinda showing all the shit Hiccup's going through and how he's trying to hide it and yeah I hope you enjoyed it please review and tell me your thoughts you guys are so awesome thank you so much for reading my shitty-written story.**

 **I hope you have an awesome March! ;D**

 **Published: March 4, 2016**


	16. Doctors Know Best

**A/N: OKAY!** ** _NOW_** **Hiccup finally goes to his appointments, and it's about GOSHDARN TIME, ISN'T IT? Again, I'm so sorry for taking so long to post a new chapter :(**

 _ **Also, I combined those two Astrid-centered chapters into one, so that's why it looks like there's one less chapter than there should be. AND I'm going to combine the two chapters "Disorder?" and "Excuses" into one chapter named "Excuses" (just a little heads up, I'll be doing that in a few hours**_ ** _!)._**

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My breathing quickened slightly as my dad's meaty fist gave out three quick taps on the oak door.

 _I don't wanna do this, please, **please** , I don't want to._

"Come on in!" said a voice from inside.

My dad put his left hand in between my shoulder blades in what might have supposed to have been a comforting manner, but I felt as though he was trying to keep me from escaping. He opened the door and gave me a gentle shove to direct me in.

Dr. Greene was standing behind a desk with two windows behind it, his mouth posed in a kind-looking smile. "Hello, I'm Dr. Greene, you must be Hiccup," he said, stretching out his hand across the desk as my dad and I made our way over to him. Although most of me was just plain scared about all of this, I felt a small spark of relief that he had addressed me first instead of my dad.

I said a quiet "Hi" and shook his hand, his grip firm and confident and making me feel small and pathetic. After shaking my dad's hand and trading introductions with him, he gestured to the two waiting room-style chairs in front of the desk. "Have a seat," he said in what was obviously a trying-to-sound-friendly tone, and sat down in his own leather swivel chair.

My knees wobbled together as I sank down onto the chair uncertainly, perching on the edge of the seat nervously instead of leaning up against the back. I hugged my arms to my middle instead of relaxing them on the armrests.

"So," said the man in front of me, clasping his hands together on top of his desk and looking at me with soft eyes, "I'm sure your pretty confused about what this appointment means, am I correct?"

I readjusted myself uncomfortably. I didn't know what the right answer to his question would be, I didn't want whatever I said to these people be the "crazy" answer.

My dad's voice came deep and interrogative from my right, "I was wondering what this 'nutritional help' will be? His doctor said that you'll be telling him what to eat."

Dr. Greene nodded to my dad, but kept his eyes mostly on me. "I did speak to Dr. Harris over email, and he informed me of your current physical state, Hiccup. The goal of meeting with me is to help you become physically healthier with nutritional counseling and meal planning. Right now, I'm not completely sure how we will be approaching these areas, today is probably going to mostly just be a 'get-to-know-you' evaluation to help me understand your situation better."

The nutritionist gave me a warm smile, which I returned with an frigid stare.

"How long will this take?" asked my dad. I looked over at him, his eyes confused and demanding.

"Well," said Greene, moving his hands animatedly as he talked, "Maybe about an hour? I'd like to speak to Hiccup alone for a little bit, go over his nutrition and exercise habits, his general lifestyle, then I'd like you to come back in and we'll go over what his treatment plan might be—"

"No," my dad interrupted him, and the doctor looked confused, "I meant, how long will _all_ of this take? Until he's normal and healthy."

The other man knit his eyebrows. "Mr. Haddock, this isn't just a simple problem with an easy fix, this is going to take time. Hiccup has only been diagnosed yesterday, you can't expect a solution to come within the first few days. I understand you have an appointment with Dr. Joanna Nelson later?"

My dad nodded, but before he could talk again, Dr. Greene kept going, "I'll send her an email to ask her to discuss with you how to understand your son's condition."

My father pursed his lips, but didn't say anything more.

Dr. Greene sighed and studied me with his piercing blue eyes, worry filling in the lines of his face. "I can tell, just by looking at you, Hiccup, that you are severely underweight. And in Dr. Harris' notes it said that your vital signs are low. How are you feeling right now?"

 _Cold, weak, shaky, achy, pain in my chest and_ —

I shrugged. "I feel fine."

I knew he didn't believe me. 1) My answer sounded fake and nervous, and 2) I could see the skepticism in his expression. All he said back to me was, "Hmm."

He turned to my dad. "Did his doctor speak to you about admitting him to a hospital?"

My breath stopped and my eyes widened to the size of grapefruits. "W— what, why?" I stuttered out, but my dad started talking, ignoring my blurted out reaction.

"No, no... he didn't say anything about that. Why— why do you think that?" My dad looked as shocked as I was.

Dr. Greene took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I was just wondering if he considered it being necessary. He didn't mention anything in his email."

"Why on Earth would he have 'considered it being necessary'?" demanded my dad. "He told me Hiccup would just need to eat more and see a psychologist."

The doctor frowned. "Usually in cases of teenagers —any age group, really— with weight as low as Hiccup's, issues such as heart irregularities, electrolyte imbalances, organ problems, and other health threats are very common, even if the cause is an eating disorder—"

I cut him off with denial. "I don't have that!" I snapped, and the startled doctor blinked, flinching from my tone and sudden interruption.

"Excuse me?" he asked gently. My dad sighed and looked over at me, slightly annoyed.

I clutched the top parts of my shins where they met my knees, afraid that if I didn't, they would tremble so hard they would fall away from my body. "I don't have an eating disorder," I said, drawing out the words to try and get him to believe me.

Dr. Greene furrowed his brow and shuffled through some papers on his desk that looked like a printed out email. When he found what he was looking for he read it over quickly and nodded to himself, then looked up at me over the top of the page. "Dr. Harris mentioned that when he suggested an eating disorder you denied it."

I don't think he was done talking, but I interrupted him again. "Yeah, because I don't have one."

"Hiccup—" My dad warned, telling me to shut up.

"Mr. Haddock," said Dr. Greene, getting his attention, "Could you please go out to the waiting room now? I'm going to speak to Hiccup alone about this."

My dad stayed in a his seat for a moment, probably wanting to ask to stay, before he stood up with a short, "Alright."

As he walked away from the desk and passed my chair he rested his giant hand on my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. I didn't know what he meant by it, and I didn't react in any way, I just stared down at the gap between my thighs.

The door closed behind me, and I was left completely alone save for the man across the desk. I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept my gaze to my lap, fiddling with the ends of the sleeves of my jacket nervously.

After several seemingly endless seconds of silence, the doctor spoke. "Hiccup, can you look up?"

I reluctantly raised my eyes, sure that he was going to keep trying to get me to admit to an eating disorder.

What he did say surprised me. "I'm not going to ask you about this topic any more during our appointment today."

I just looked at him, confused.

"My job is to analyze your caloric intake and nutrition consumption, not your mental state. I _do_ think that I'm going to ask to have a conference with your doctor and Dr. Nelson, soon, to discuss your wellbeing."

"So," my eyes flicked around apprehensively, "You won't keep asking me about... the— disorder... thing?" I stumbled through the question awkwardly. "'Cause I really don't have one."

"I'm sure Dr. Nelson will be discussing that with you at your appointment later today," he said, drawing the topic to a close.

He pulled a clipboard on his desk that I hadn't noticed before closer to him and clicked open a pen. "Now, I have some questions for you about your eating and exercise habits, and I need you to be _as honest as possible_ , okay?"

I nodded, my heart rate fluttering because I didn't know what he was going to be asking.

"What do you usually have for breakfast?"

 _That's simpler than I thought it would be_. "Um, like, cereal, usually." That wasn't really a lie, whenever I did eat breakfast (rarely any more often than three times a week), I had cereal.

"Just cereal? Every day?"

"Well, uh, sometimes my dad makes eggs or sausage and stuff."

"How often does he do that?"

 _Like, once a month._ "On... on Saturdays and Sundays, usually. On weekends."

"Okay," he mumbled under his breath, writing on the paper in front of him. The air in the room felt cold and stiff.

"And you never eat anything more than cereal for your morning meal on school days? Any fruit?"

 _Sometimes just an apple, but nothing else_. "Uh, yeah, I sometimes have an apple or banana with the cereal. I have to hurry to get to school, so I don't have a lotta time." I added that last bit as an attempt to dispel suspicion that I intentionally ate small amounts or skipped. Sometimes I skipped meals intentionally, because, I— I...

He nodded his head and made another note on his clipboard. "Okay. What kind of cereal do you have? Brands like corn flakes, or more sugary kinds?"

 _No need to lie there._ "Cheerios, mostly, or Life."

"And how much do you eat? About a full bowl? Or three-quarters?" He held out a cupped hand for a visual example.

"Yeah, about that much." I actually only filled the bowl to half most times.

"Alright, well..." he mumbled again as he scribbled on his clipboard for a moment. He then put down his pen and looked up at me. "On average, you consume approximately two hundred calories for breakfast each day." He waited for me to respond.

My hands shook where they were clenched in my lap. "Oh, um, is— that's normal, right?"

The nutritionist pursed his lips. "Well, it's a bit too low for what would be appropriate for your age, weight, and height, but I understand that you might have to rush to get to school on time." _Thank God_. I hoped I was home free, but then realized we had only covered one meal.

His next question made my hands tremble even harder, as though an earthquake had settled in my wrists. "Do you ever skip breakfast in a hurry to get to school?"

 _Most Mondays, and Tuesdays—_

I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Like, once every two weeks, if I miss my alarm or something."

 _Why_ _do_ _I_ _lie_ _so much_ _about this stuff?_

He asked me about lunch, and I told him I brought a PBJ sandwich and various snack-foods with me to school ( _which I sometimes do,_ _so that's not a total lie, right?_ ), and he said that it was still under how much I should be eating ( _God, how much are people **supposed** to eat to satisfy this guy, a whole supermarket?_). Then he asked me about snacks I had after school, and what I had for dinner. I almost told him that my dad made me dinner every night, then I caught myself when I realized my dad would definitely know that was a lie, and he might find out about it and tell the doctor. So, I said I usually made myself some pasta or soup or something.

After scribbling down my answer, Dr. Greene asked, "Is your father ever home when you eat after school?"

The question made me feel as thought I was being interrogated and he was asking me if there was a witness to the crime that had been committed.

I gulped. "Um, y— yeah, sometimes."

"How often is 'sometimes', Hiccup?"

I swallowed thickly for a second time. It felt like there was something lodged in my throat. The truth, probably.

However, I had to tell the truth here, because if I lied in this response, my dad could contradict it. "He, uh, he's home on— on the weekends," I confessed awkwardly.

The doctor blinked and raised his eyebrows, half confusion, half surprise. "Just on the weekends?"

My face flamed. "He works really hard at his job, it's not his fault!" I defended. I didn't want my dad to be subject to any suspicion that he wasn't a good parent. A kid I had been semi-friends with in eighth grade had been taken away from his dad because of custody issues and had to live with his aunt and uncle. I didn't want anything like that to happen to my family. Even though I got frustrated with or mad at my mom and dad at times, I loved them more than anyone.

Dr. Greene nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm not projecting blame on anyone, Hiccup, i just wanted to ask."

We stared at each other for a moment, his calming gaze trying to cool me down. I glanced away quickly. "'Kay," I mumbled, embarrassed, but still a slightly ticked off. I got like that sometimes, occasionally having annoying little mood swings.

His next few questions were easier. "Do you exercise? Do you play any sports?"

"No," I shook my head.

"What does your physical activity consist of?"

"I dunno, I, uh, I walk my dogs every morning, just for like fifteen minutes."

"Do you go for runs? Or do you do a certain exercise routine often? Anything like that?"

"No."

"Do you have a gym class at school?"

"I took it last year." Thank God my school only had us take one year of P.E. instead of all four years.

He spent a minute writing down stuff in his notes and typing things into an iPad I hadn't noticed before, leaving me to just sit there and glance awkwardly around the room. He had two diplomas on the wall, a painting of some wildflowers, and a picture of who must've been his three kids.

One of them was a red-haired girl who looked to be my age. I briefly wondered what it was like at home for her, the daughter of a nutritionist, if he constantly lectured her about what she was eating or stuff like that. **To my eyes** , she looked thinner than me, and I flushed with exasperation for a moment, because _I_ was the one sitting in doctors' offices being accused of having an eating disorder.

 _I'm not some insecure girl who wants to get skinny, I'm just a naturally small nerdy boy!_ I kept telling myself that, over and over and over again. In addition to believing I was just naturally like this, the day's society had ingrained in my mind that only girls had eating disorders, and that it was extra-freaky-weird if a boy had one.

I didn't look at the picture long, I didn't want the doctor to think I was weird for staring at a picture of his kids.

"Okay," he put down his pen and looked back at me, clasping his hands together on the desk. My mouth felt overly dry and my chest filled with fear. "I have a basic outline put together of what we will need to begin with. Do you want me to call your dad back here and we all go over it together, or do you want me to discuss it with you first and then we talk to your dad?"

I picked at a loose string coming from the seam of my jeans. "Um... ca— can you tell, uh, me f— first?"

He nodded. "Of course," he pulled the iPad in front of him and glanced down at it before looking over the top of it at me. "So, using what you told me, if it was the absolute truth, I was able to calculate an estimate of your daily calorie intake."

"I was telling truth," I said, persistently defensive.

"Alright, well, then you're cosuming a maximum of eight-hundred calories a day." He paused and looked a me expectantly, letting his words sink in.

I shrugged and fidgteted a little. From his tone, I could tell he didn't think that was enough, but I decided to act like I didn't know that. "Um, that's okay, r— right?" I said, trying for a smile but came out as a nervous quiver of my lips.

He shook his head. "No, Hiccup, it isn't. The minimum amount of calories needed for someone your age, weight, and height to function properly is 1,200 a day." _Function properly?_ The words reminded me of the question he had asked earlier, if Dr. Harris had wanted to check me into a hospital. "Although the ideal amount would be about 2,000 calories a day and moderate exercise."

"So you want me to eat that much every day?" I asked nervously. Two thousand calories a day was two and half times the amount I was "currently eating". I had been lying on so many questions he asked me. For a moment, I wondered how many calories a day I _did_ eat, but I pushed the thought away, repressing it into the ever-cavernous corners of my mind.

Dr. Greene frowned and shook his head. "No, not at all. I'm going to start you out by slowly raising the number of calories you consume a day, because if you just suddenly jumped up to an amount you aren't used to, your body would be so shocked by the change that it wouldn't be able to handle it."

I briefly wondered if he was trying to scare, but then I realized that didn't make sense.

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

"So, starting this week, I want you to eat nine hundred calories a day." I noticed that he didn't say it like a suggestion, but an order. "In a week, you'll come back to see me and we'll go over how it's working out for you. I know you have follow-up appointment with your primary care doctor, so I think it'll work out nicely and we can see what your improvement rate is.

"Now, I do have some homework for you," he said, gently smiling in a joking way. He opened a draw on the right of his desk and shuffled through it for a moment, coming out with a blue composition notebook in his hands. He held it up to show me and gestured to it as he explained his previous statement. "I want you to write in this notebook every time you have something to eat. Just tell me what it is, you don't have to keep track of the calories in here, or the exact measurements of what you're having, just your meals and your snacks. Oh, and also your exercise." He extended the notebook to me, and I took it reluctantly and held it in my lap the way someone would hold a ticking bomb.

"Um," I didn't know I felt about all of this. "So, just that stuff? Nothing else?" _Making up stuff will be easy_.

"Well," he cocked his head slightly, "Actually, I want you to give a short description of how you felt about what you ate. What your emotional, or physical, responses were. It doesn't have to be a full length essay, just a sentence or two. Maybe even a list. But, please do it, Hiccup, being open will greatly help you," he added.

"So I have to write in a diary," I replied, interpreting his intentions wrong, upset and just wanting all of this to stop.

"Try to think of it more as a 'nutrition journal'."

 _I want to go home_ _I want to go home_ _I want to go home_ _I want to go home_ _I want to go home_ —

"Before I call your father back, are there any questions you have?"

There had been couple things that had remained pecking at my mind throughout the appointment. "Yeah, uh... when you said earlier, when my dad was in here, about the hospital and stuff...?" I trailed off and looked up at him expectantly, hoping he had caught the gist of my half-composed question.

"I was merely concerned for your physical health, that is my job, y'know." He gave me a smile. "Don't worry about that for now, at least not until your doctor and I have discussed your state of health a bit more."

"Um, okay... uh, thanks."

Dr. Greene called the receptionist on his desktop phone and told her to send my dad back in, and he repeated what he had told me. That I was eating "too little" and that he was going to up my calories by 100. I stared at the floor the whole time, avoiding his eyes, especially when the doctor told him how many calories I was eating a day and my dad let out a sharp " _Eight-hundred!?"_ I didn't know if his tone was angry, surprised, or disappointed. My dad was given a chart that had suggested meal options and combinations would fulfill my caloric requirement. The nutritionist also explained the "food journal."

"Before we leave," said my dad gruffly at the end of the appointment, "Can you tell me more about his eating disor—?"

He was cut off before the end of his question. "No," responded Dr. Greene, "I told you that you should discuss that with Dr. Nelson. And I do not have enough information from only today to confidently diagnose Hiccup with an ED. Hopefully Dr. Nelson will be able to help you. However, I can say that, after going over the basic's of Hiccup's nutritional intake, I do not suspect that any disease such as cancer of Crohn's is causing his low weight."

And with that, the doctor closed the appointment. He gave me one last kind smile, then my dad and I politely thanked him, the way you do even if you aren't thankful at all, and left the office (making a quick stop at the front desk to schedule another appointment).

"So," my dad cleared his throat awkwardly after we buckled our seatbelts. He avoided eye contact (not a problem, since I was doing the same) and started the car. "What do you think?"

"Huh?" I was unsure what he meant.

He back out of the parking space. "Did you... like Dr. Greene?"

I shrugged, staring down at the blue notebook in my hands and running a finger along the edge absentmindedly. "I dunno," I muttered, "He was nice, I guess. I don't see why we have to go back," I finished spitefully.

My dad was ready with a snap-back answer. "Because he's going to fix your eating. I've told you to stop complaining about this, Hiccup, and get over it! He knows what's good for your health much better than you do." At the end of his scolding, he did nothing but stonily stare out the windshield, his expression unreadable.

I had intended on asking him more about me going to Astrid's volleyball game, but his little speech had silenced the part of me that was going to. Now I had nothing to do but look out the window at the passing buildings and people, dreading going to the next place I was headed.

As I did so, I didn't see the tear that slowly dripped down my father's face.

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 **A/N: WHEW, that's over with! This took a while to write, sorry, and it turned out much longer than I intended it to be. So, next chapter will be the long-anticipated therapy appointment, and after that, who knows what angsty scenarios I have in store?**

 **As always, feedback is welcome! Thank you so much, all of you, you're the ones who are keeping this story alive just by reading it.** **Happy April!**

 **Published: April 6, 2016**


	17. Diagnosis: Part 1

**A/N: As promised, I'm back! :D**

 **And, as you can tell by the title of this chapter, some important shiz is about to go down . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . :(**

 **TW: DEPRESSION**

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Dr. Nelson's waiting room (which was also for two other therapists) had old oak floors with forest green rugs, deep navy blue walls covered with landscape paintings, potted plants in every corner, and tall windows with drapes that matched the carpets. It was definitely nicer that the nutritionists' place.

That doesn't mean it made me feel any more comfortable.

The office was on the third floor of a brick building downtown, and there had been a receptionist in the lobby of the floor when we got off the elevator that told us that the doctor would call us back herself. The door to the waiting room had the sign _New Hope Mental Health Offices: Adolescent & Adult _on it, and the room itself was empty except for a middle aged couple sitting together, an old man, and a guy who looked to be in his mid twenties. Everyone was silent, not even a whisper escaped into the air, just the turning of generic magazine pages and the _tap-tap-tap_ of thumbs on phone screens. My dad's leg was jumping up and down like it had been at the nutritionist's, and it was driving my anxiety even higher up the wall with the frenetic jiggling.

Ten minutes into waiting, and with fifteen minutes to go until my appointment time, I took my phone out of my jeans' pocket to do some research. I typed _define_ _psychiatrist_ into the Safari search bar to see what Google had to say.

I clicked on the Wikipedia link and read. The second sentence said "Psychiatrists are medical doctors, unlike psychologists, and must evaluate patients to determine whether their symptoms are the result of a physical illness, a combination of physical and mental, or a strictly psychiatric one."

My knee began to twitch along with my dad's.

After ten minutes of more web surfing, I couldn't find what I wanted to know: what this woman was going to ask me about. All of the websites I found just told me stuff like "oh, it depends on what your being treated for" and "just be honest with them, they want to help you." Nothing to give me pointers on how to avoid ever coming back.

I clicked off my phone in frustration and looked around the waiting room in curiosity. I wondered if any of these people _actually_ wanted to be here. Maybe the middle-aged couple were just trying everything they could to save their failing marriage. Maybe the old man had just lost his wife, or he had seen some screwed-up stuff in a war. Maybe the twenties-someting dude was trying to get over a break-up, and he didn't want to have to turn to a bottle of beer to solve his problems.

 _I'm not like this. I'm just a nerdy high school kid with a nerdy best friend named Fishlegs who only texts me when he wants to debate the latest superhero movie or talk about reptiles. I don't do drugs, I don't go out with "bad" people (excluding Ruff), I don't have a dangerous girlfriend (excluding Astrid), and I DON'T HAVE AN EATING DISORDER._

One of the three therapy-room doors opened halfway and everyone in the room looked up at the sound of the knob turning. A soft voice floated out from the room behind it. "... see you next week, dear." The door had a plaque that said "Joanna Nelson, M.D., D.O". _Ugh, she calls people "dear"?_ I thought, finding a way to hate her already.

The door opened the rest of the way and a girl about eighteen walked out, adjusting her shoulder bag and giving her eyes a quick wipe while avoiding the eyes of us waiting room people.

Dr. Nelson stood with one hand resting lightly on her office door, keeping it open. She looked around fifty-five, with short, mouse-brown hair just beginning to show grey, and laugh wrinkles around blue eyes. She was wearing a cream-colored blouse and long tweed pants, had a pen tucked behind her ear and reading glasses on a bead chain around her neck, like a college English professor who loves Starbucks.

All in all, she looked like a genuinely kind person, but I was more terrified of her at that moment than anything.

She gave my dad and I a warm smile. "Are you the Haddocks?"

My dad nodded curtly and stood. I started to get up as well, the nervous butterflies in my stomach making a quick round trip down my legs to my feet and back.

"I'd actually like to speak with you first, Mr. Haddock," she said, halting me in my tracks and giving my dad a nod. "Then I'll call you back, okay, Hiccup?"

"Um, alright," I said uneasily and sat back down. My dad walked forward to the room, giving me a quick look before stepping inside, Dr. Nelson giving me the index finger meaning 'just wait a minute while we talk about you!' and then closing the door.

I didn't like this situation one bit. They were probably talking about me and how much was wrong with me and how I was freaky skinny even though they didn't know my side of the story because no one would listen. And my dad was probably filling her head with all sorts of ideas of what he thought about me, and vice versa, and she would nod and take notes and _my_ input would never even matter because no one understood...

 _I need to tell the truth_... _I need to deny everything, because I need to be normal_...

My thoughts raced for eight minutes until the stupid wood door finally opened and out came my dad.

He looked a little shaken, which worried me. He gestured towards the office with his hand. "Go on back," he said gruffly.

I stood up just as he was about to sit down. "Wait, what did you guys talk about?" I whispered frantically, not wanting other people in the room to judge me like I had just been judging them.

His mustache wrinkled for a second, then looked me right in the eyes and rested his hand on my shoulder. " _Please_ talk to her, son." He let his hand fall back down to his side and sat down, avoiding my confused stare. His words sounded ominous, _threatening_ , even, and they did nothing to comfort me.

I swallowed hard and walked to the door. When I got to the doorway I stood there awkwardly, not wanting to have to go in by my own volition.

Dr. Nelson was sitting in a big leather swivel chair, scribbling in ineligible cursive in a file attached to a clipboard. She looked up when she saw me standing there, taking off her reading glasses to let them hang around her neck again. She smiled at me, that kind, not-soothing-at-all smile that I had seen on Dr. Harris, Dr. Greene, even the nurse who drew my blood. _Fake, they're all just being fake. They don't actually care._

"Hi, Hiccup, I'm Dr. Nelson," she flipped to a new page in the file and waved to the room at large, "Go ahead and take a seat wherever you like."

I glanced around. My choices were two ivory-colored plush (but worn) looking arm chairs, and a brown couch with an afghan laying over the arm rest. I closed the door behind me and chose one of the chairs, the one farthest away from the psychiatrist's desk.

Dr. Nelson rolled her chair a little closer to me and crossed her legs. "So, I understand you've had a bit of a busy couple of days, huh?"

I watched my fingernail pick at my jeans. "I guess," I mumbled, "Did my dad say that?"

"Well, no, but it's sort of what I'm deducing from my conversation with your doctor and from talking with your father. Does it bother you that I met with your dad before talking to you?"

"What did you talk about?" I asked, devising a plan to try and answer her questions with questions.

Unfortunately, I could tell she saw right through my smoke screen. "We went over your medical information, nothing more." Something made me feel like she wasn't telling the whole truth, and I didn't like it.

When I didn't say anything, she cleared her throat and spoke again. "Hiccup, can you look up at me?" I uneasily raised my eyes, feeling like prey being hunted by a predator. She sighed. "Before we discuss all that, I just want to get to know you, okay?"

"Sure," I shrugged. I knew I'd have to cooperate, because if I just sat here all hunched over and brooding, she'd definitely think there was something wrong with me.

"Also, before we get started, I need you to know that everything you tell me is confidential, and will remain right here in this file, unless you are in danger of harm. This is a safe place, and I need you to be open and honest with me, and trust me, okay?"

"Okay." _And why should I trust you?_ I was disliking her more and more by the second.

"You're a sophomore, is that right?" _Ugh, more "conversation" shit again._

"Yeah, at Berk High."

"Oh, that's a nice school. How is it there? Do you like it?"

Another shrug. "Fine, I guess."

"What do like about it? What don't you like about it?"

She asked me a bunch of these type of annoying questions about my everyday life, which really weren't that hard to answer. She wasn't even asking me about food and eating. I was only unsure of one answer.

"Are you dating anyone?"

"Uh..." I thought of Astrid, and thought about saying yes, because... well, I guess we were. _Are we?_ She had kissed me, and are tutoring sessions were more dates than anything, and what she had said at school today... "K— kind of."

Dr. Nelson gave me a puzzled look. "Kind of?"

I stared at my hands in my lap and shifted uncomfortably, sinking further into the chair. "Um, I— I guess so. There's a girl... we hang out sometimes, and... we... yeah." I mumbled through my words, not wanting to get into the "spilling my guts to a shrink" territory, but I also kind of wanted to tell somebody about how nervous I was with the whole _romance_ concept.

"Have you engaged in any sort of physical activity?" She asked cautiously.

My face flamed and I looked at her in embarrassment. "What? No, of course not! We haven't... uh-uh." I shook my head vehemently.

Her posture evolved into something more relaxed and calming. "It's okay, I believe you. Just so you know, I am a medical doctor, so if you have any questions—"

I shook my head more and looked back down to my lap. "No, we just— we've kissed, _once_ , and that's it." I almost thought about asking her what that kiss could've meant, but I wasn't nearly that trusting or open.

She smoothly glossed over the awkward topic and kept asking me about my life. Her next few questions were about my family. She asked how often my mom was gone, and how much my dad was home. Everything she asked and said seemed very casual on the surface, but I knew there was the ulterior motive underneath. _She's probably hoping that I'll suddenly blurt out 'my mom doesn't love me!' or 'I think I'm fat and hate myself!'_ I hoped that all of my responses were "normal" and that she wasn't reading into anything, or that I wasn't saying anything able to be read into.

She finished her thirty-or-so questions, then closed the file and smiled at me. "Okay, Hiccup, thank you for answering honestly, I know that must've been pretty dull," she said jokingly, like she "knew exactly what I was going through". She rolled her chair around to her desk and fished out and iPad from one of the drawers. "Now," she said as she tapped purposefully on the screen, "I have a couple surveys that I'd like you to fill out. Please try and answer everything as honestly as you possibly can. If you're confused by any of the questions, you can just ask me."

She handed me the iPad, which I took tentatively. This shrink session felt like it had suddenly turned into a school standardized test.

"I'm just going to sit right here at my desk, so just let me know when you're done."

I nodded and started to look down at the iPad, but then she said, "And I really mean it when I say that you need to be honest, Hiccup. I understand that this is probably a very uncomfortable experience, but this is all to help you, okay?"

I squirmed and avoided her psychiatrist stare. "Sure," I nonchalantly adjusted my hair so that it fell in front of my eyes, shading my from her, and I looked down to the "survey".

A quick once-over of the first question definitely let me know that this was not as simple as one of those _Which Movie Character Are You?_ internet quizzes.

 **1\. Do you ever feel down, depressed, or generally sad?**

 **○ Often**

 **○ Sometimes**

 **○ Rarely**

 **○ Never**

I racked my brains trying to figure out what the "right" answer would be.

 _Um... uh... what if she notices and thinks I'm taking too long? Can she check how long I took to answer each question?_

A small, subconscious cry for help moved my finger to the screen, clicking down on **Sometimes**. The evaluation (for I was now sure that's what it was) automatically moved onto the next question, and a bolt of panic zipped through me. _Wait, I don't get to review my answer, or click a next arrow?!_ Trepidation rushed through me, I had realized just after I'd selected my response that I should have said **Rarely** or **Never**.

I took a deep breath, and then another, and then another. An anxiety attack here _would not_ help my case.

 _Next question, Hiccup, read the next question_ , I calmed myself.

 **2\. Do you ever no longer feel interested in activities that you used to enjoy?**

The same multiple-choice answers from the other question were listed below. I chose rarely, feeling that that was probably a "safe" option.

All of the questions that followed were similar, asking about depression, fatigue, and anxiety, and by the end of the survey, I was buzzing with stress. Each inquiry felt relatable, and I almost wanted to actually just be honest, which, of course, I intentionally tried not to be. However, on a few questions I clicked a response without even thinking about it, like a did with the first one, and because the stupid thing immediately moved onto the next one, I couldn't "fix" it. What was extremely frustrating was that I didn't know what I was supposed to say to get me out of this, other than constant denial. My all-the-time subconscious excuse was beginning to get very exhausting, but I was unwilling to just let go.

After twenty-minutes and thirty questions, I was finally finished.

"Uh, I— I'm done," I said to get the attention of Dr. Nelson. I had a feeling that I'd had her attention the whole time, though, because she had been sitting at her desk half-turned toward me, and occasionally would glance at me as I took her test.

She put down her pen and swivel-chaired over to me, reaching out for the tablet.

I sat there awkwardly as she scrolled through the results, tapping away. I caught a glimpse of the screen and saw graphs and numbers that must've had something to do with my responses. My stomach filled with razor-winged butterflies.

She turned to me. "I'd like to discuss these questions with you, Hiccup."

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 _Fifteen Minutes Later_

My heart pounded at what she'd just "concluded". _No, nuh-uh, she's wrong, really, really WRONG. She thinks she knows that about me from just fifteen freaking minutes of talking to me?!_

After a couple of shocked seconds, my throat cleared of whatever had been choking it and my voice was quick to spit out, "I'm _not_ depressed!"

Dr. Nelson sighed deeply and looked at me with an annoying pity in her eyes. She looked like she'd heard those same words a lot. "Hiccup," she said gently, "I understand that it's very difficult, and a bit unbelievable, to hear, but from what you've been telling me about yourself and what I've been deducing, all signs point to clinical depression."

I shook my head frantically. "No— I'm not— I don't— Well— what _signs_?"

She took off her glasses and tilted her head as if to console me. "The common symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder — clinical depression — are the feelings of finding less enjoyment in activities that used to be enjoyed,—"

I thought of two questions on the survey: **Do you ever no longer feel interested in activities that you used to enjoy?** and **Do you ever find it hard to have the motivation to participate in recreational** **pastimes?**

"—feeling an overall sadness that effects your everyday life,—"

 **Do you ever feel down, depressed, or generally sad?** and **Do feelings of fatigue or lethargy ever interfere with your daily life?**

"—loss of concentration,—"

 **Do you ever find it hard to concentrate on basic tasks such as homework/housework, watching television, or listening and participating in a conversation?** I remembered I had answered "Sometimes" for that one.

"—and low self-esteem, feelings of inadequacy."

I stared, gaping and breathless, at her mouth as it formed that list. For a moment, I was speechless. _There's so much I need to deny._

I blinked a few times to clear my head. I felt dizzy. "I don't feel inadequate," I said, forgetting to deny all the other stuff and just focusing on the last three words she had said.

The psychiatrist shifted in her chair, readjusting her pose, and her pen on her clipboard. "Let me give you a few hypothetical scenarios, Hiccup, and I want you to tell me what _you_ would do in each situation," she started, altering her approach, too.

I bit the inside of my cheek. _I hate this._

"You forgot to do your homework the night before, and you realize it just before it's due. What do you do?"

I shrugged. "Rush to finish it."

"But what if you didn't finish it?"

I shrugged again, I didn't know what she was getting at with this, it hadn't been the scenario I had been expecting. "Tell the teacher I'm sorry and that I'd turn it in later." _I would say sorry a lot, too._

"How would you feel about it? Would you be bothered by it for the rest of the day or longer?"

"Probably." _Oh no_ _, I should **not** have said that_. I figured out what she was trying to do, trying to get me to admit that small things made me sad and upset. I quickly corrected myself, "Who wouldn't be?"

"But, we're not talking about other people, we're talking about you."

 _No, **you're** talking about me._

She smoothed out a wrinkle in her pants and tried again. "Can I ask you a couple more?"

"You're the one in charge here," I said, my patience with her beginning to run thin. I hated how she treated me like a naïve child.

She sighed and made a little pouty face. "Hiccup, I want there to be mutual trust between us. Please, know that you are in a safe place, and no one is in control of anyone else."

I tried my hardest to resist rolling my eyes.

After telling her what I do when I don't have any plans and stay home all day, and how I feel when I finished a project or activity, she was done with her stupid "scenarios".

"So what do those things have to do with anything?" I asked, nervous. My hands were clenched between my knees to hide the shaking, but there seemed to be nothing to stifle the quivering in my voice.

"Hiccup, I am diagnosing you with Major Depressive Disorder."

She said it so bluntly, unlike her previous fancily-worded descriptions, and it took me aback. She was writing on the clipboard, which would be filed away into some permanent record.

 _No. No no no no no._

Part of me just wanted to give in. I didn't know what to say, no more excuses were flooding my mouth, and the only thing I could think of was what my dad was going to say.

"Are you going to tell my dad?" I whispered quietly towards the floor, blinking away the odd stinging in the inner corners of my eyes.

I was expecting her to say that she was, but her reply surprised me. "No, Hiccup, I'm not. That choice is up to you. What we have discussed here will remain between you, me, and your doctor."

I sniffed away the weak sounds that were crawling up my throat, and raised my eyes. "So, what? Are you just going to stick me on happy pills now?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't think that medication is currently necessary. I do recommend that you begin talk-therapy with a psychologist, though."

"Isn't that what you do?" I asked, puzzled.

She shook her head again. "I'm a psychiatrist, I specialize in diagnosing mental conditions and prescribing medications." She scribbled on a Post-It note. "That's why I'm going to refer you to a very capable therapist I know. Everything will be alright, Hiccup, this is to help you."

 _Ugh, shut up, please just shut up._

 _At least I won't have to come back_ here _, though_.

"However, you may have to come back and see me once in a while," she said, looking up from her clipboard to make eye contact with me.

 _Well, shit, never mind._

She handed me a business card with the sticky note attached, and explained that it was the number for the psychologist. The note said _I will call him first and explain your situation so he can know a bit about you_.

"Now, I need to change the subject to why you came here in the first place."

 _Oh._ We weren't even done yet, her diagnosing me with depression was just the warm-up.

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 **A/N: Hmph, you thought it was going to be the eating disorder diagnosis in this chapter, didn't you? Well, unfortunately our poor Hiccup has more going on than we thought. :(**

 **Published: June 1, 2016**


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